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A  UTHOR : 


LUBBOCK,  PERCY 


TITLE: 


SAMUEL  PEPYS 


PLACE: 


NEW  YORK 


DA  TE : 


1909 


Master  Negative  # 


COLUMBIA  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARIES 
PRESERVATION  DEPARTMENT 


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Lubbock,  Percy,  IB^o- 

Sarauel  Pepys,  by  Percy  Lubbock  ...   -toadoHpHodder 
•ftad-S^ugbton,  1909.       11  ew  York,  Scribner,    1909. 

xi,  284  p.     front.,  pi.,  ports.,  ficsim.    20"".     {Half-title:  Literary  lives,    i 
eel.  by  W.  R.  Nicoll  ...) 

•5^tle4ti-fed  -within  -orna  menial  -border.- 


1.  Pepys,  Samuel,  1633-1703. 


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LITERARY    LIVES 

EDITED     BY 

W.     ROBERTSON    NICOLL 


SAMUEL   PEPYS 


LITERARY  LIVES 
Edited  by  W.  Robertson  Nidoll,  D.D. 


HENRIK  IBSEN.    By  Edmund  Gosse. 
MATTHEW  ARNOLD.    By  G.  W.  E.  RusseU. 
CARDINAL  NEWMAN.    By  WUliam  Barry,  D.D. 
JOHN  BUNYAN.    By  W.  Hale  White. 
CX)VENTRY  PATMORE.    By  Edmund  Gosse. 
ERNEST  REN  AN.    By  WiUiam  Barry,  D.D. 
CHARLOTTE  BRONTE.    By  Qement  K.  Shorter. 
SIR  WALTER  SCOTT.    By  Andrew  Lang. 


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SAMUEL  PEPYS 


II 


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BY 


PERCY    LUBBOCK 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW  YORK 


CHARLES   SCRIBNER'S   SONS 

1909 


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Preface 

THE  following  sketch  of  Samuel  Pepys  is 
based,  as  will  be  evident,  entirely  on 
published  materials.  I  have  throughout 
used  Mr.  H.  B.  Wheatley's  edition  of  the  Diary 
(first  published  1893-99,  and  re-issued  in  a  smaller 
form  in  1904),  the  only  one  which  approaches 
completeness.  Large  portions  of  the  manuscript 
were  omitted  in  the  various  editions  published 
by  Lord  Braybrooke  between  1 825  and  1854, 
and  that  of  the  Rev.  Mynors  Bright  (1875-79), 
though  fuller,  gave  only  about  four-fifths  of  the 
whole  Diary.  Mr.  Wheatley  published  it  in  its 
entirety  with  the  exception  of  a  certain  number 
of  passages  judged  impossible  to  print.  I  have 
also  depended  much  upon  two  other  publications 
of  his,  Samt^l  Pepys  and  the  World  he  lived  in 
(1880),  and  Pepysiana  (1899).     To  Mr.  Wheatley, 


VI 


Preface 


Preface 


Vll 


indeed,  any  one  who  now  ventures  to  write  about 
Pepys   must  be  continually  indebted.     We  are 
still  unfortunately  without  his  promised  edition 
of  Pepys'  correspondence,   of  which   much  re- 
mains   unprinted    both    in    private    hands    and 
among   the   Rawlinson  MSS.    in   the    Bodleian. 
Failing  this  we  have  only  the  selection  of  letters 
to  and   from   Pepys   appended   to   Lord   Bray- 
brooke's  edition  of  the  Diary,  and  the  two  volumes 
{JLije^    Journals^    and    Correspondence   of   Samuel 
Pefys)    published   in    1841    by   the    Rev.    John 
Smith,  the  original  decipherer  of  the  Diary.     The 
various  letters  from  which  I  quote  are  to  be  found 
in  one  or  other  of  these  two  collections.     In  the 
latter  is  included  the  journal  kept  by  Pepys  during 
his  visit   to  Tangier,   of  which  the  shorthand 
original  is  in  the  Bodleian.     Dr.  J.  R.  Tanner  is  at 
present  engaged  in  editing  for  the  Navy  Records 
Society  a  descriptive  catalogue  of  the  naval  MSS. 
in    the    Pepysian    Library  at   Magdalene,   two 
volumes  of  which  have  so  far  appeared. 
I  could  hope  that  the  following  pages  owe 


I 


something  to  the  circumstances  in  which  the 
greater  part  of  them  were  written, — at  Cambridge, 
that  is  to  say,  in  Pepys'  own  college,  to  which 
he  bequeathed  his  library,  and  within  a  few 
yards  of  the  building  where  it  is  housed.  As 
Pepysian  Librarian  at  Magdalene  I  had  for  a 
while  the  obvious  advantage  of  being  in  touch 
with  the  collection  on  which  the  Diarist  lavished 
such  characteristic  and  loving  care.  The  library 
bears  in  all  its  details  the  marks  of  Pepys'  hand 
and  taste,  and  I  should  like  to  think  that  my 
book  has  profited  by  the  association.  My  thanks 
are  due  for  the  kindly  interest  shown  by  the  Master 
and  Fellows  of  the  college,  and  for  information 
given  me  by  Mr.  Frank  Sidgwick,  under  whose 
auspices  a  much-needed  catalogue  of  the  library 
is  shortly  to  be  published.  To  Mr.  Howard 
Sturgis  and  Mr.  Arthur  Christopher  Benson  I 
owe  a  very  special  degree  of  gratitude  for  much 
helpful  criticism. 

It  will  be  seen  that  I  have  throughout  given 
one  date  only  for  references  to  the  months  of 


Vlll 


Preface 


Preface 


IX 


January,  Februar7,and  March :  thus  I  write  Febru- 
ary 7,  1667,  instead  of  the  more  exact  February 
7  1666-6^.  The  official  year  in  Pepys'  time, 
and  for  some  while  afterwards,  began  on  March 
25  ;  but  January  i  was  then  as  now  popularly 
regarded  as  New  Year's  Day,  and  for  all  days 
falling  between  the  two  Pepys  himself  invariably 
gives  the  double  date.  For  the  sake  of  conveni- 
ence I  have  consistently  assumed  that  the  year 
began  on  January  i. 

It  is  perhaps  worth  adding  a  word  with  regard 
to  the  pronunciation  of  Pepys'  name,  a  vexed 
point  which  is  exhaustively  considered  by  Mr. 
Wheatley  in  the  life  prefixed  to  his  edition  of  the 
Diary.  Oddly  enough  there  is  no  authority 
whatever  for  Pep,  the  form  generally  used. 
The  diarist  himself  almost  certainly  pronounced 
his  name  Peep :  it  is  still  so  pronounced  by  the 
family  of  Pepys  Cockerell,  who  descend  from 
his  sister,  and  this  form  is  traditional  at  Mag- 
dalene. On  the  other  hand  it  is  probable  that 
different  pronunciations  were  also  in  use  in  the 


"*». 


seventeenth  century ;  other  branches  of  the 
family  call  themselves  Pepps,  and  Mr.  Wheatley 
shows  that  there  is  some  evidence  for  the  form 
Payps,  But  it  is  as  Peeps  alone  that  one  who  has 
grown  familiar  with  the  daily  use  of  his  name 
at  Magdalene,  in  the  presence  of  the  relics  which 
so  intimately  recall  his  memory,  can  think  of  the 
founder  of  the  Pepysian  Library. 


i 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Samuel  Pepys,  from   the  Painting   at  the 
Admiralty,  Whitehall 

Page  of  the  MS.  of  Pepys'  Diary 

Sir  Edward  Montagu,  first  Earl  of  Sand- 
wich, FROM  THE  Painting  by  Sir  Peter 
Lely  (National  Portrait  Gallery) 

Duchess  of  Cleveland  (Lady  Castlemaine), 
FROM  THE  Painting  by  Sir  Peter  Lely 
(National  Portrait  Gallery) 

Samuel  Pepys,  from  the  Painting  by  John 
Hales  (National  Portrait  Gallery)     . 

The  Pepysian  Library,  Magdalene  College, 
Cambridge  

Samuel  Pepys,  from  the  Painting  by  Sir  G. 
Kneller  (Magdalene  College,  Cam- 
bridge)  

James  II,  from  the  Painting  by  John  Riley 
(National  Portrait  Gallery) 

Samuel  Pepys,  from  the  Painting  by  Sir 
Peter  Lely  (Magdalene  College,  Cam- 
bridge) ...... 


Frontispiece 
To  face  p.  30 


)» 


» 


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9> 


84 


102 


128 


151 


196 


250 


»> 


272 


XI 


chapter  I 

^AMUEL  PEPYS  holds  to-day  a  curiously 
^^_  accidental  place  in  English  literature,  but 
it  is  a  place  which  is  all  his  own.  He  was 
not  a  man  of  letters ;  he  was  a  capable  official, 
business-like  and  trustworthy,  with  an  insatiable 
taste  for  life.  But  the  book  which  he  produced 
without  knowing  it  to  be  a  book,  his  matchless 
Diary,  has  been  claimed  without  question  for 
literature.  A  book  which  in  its  unconsidered 
candour  is  perhaps  the  most  remarkable  portrait 
of  a  human  being  that  we  possess,  a  book  in  which 
there  is  no  page  which  is  not  brim-fuU  of  life  and 
character,  is  not  the  less  a  work  of  art  because 
its  author  was  unaware  of  it.  For  such  a  book  a 
place  must  be  found,  if  no  place  already  existed ; 
if  it  seems  to  belong  to  no  recognized  form,  a  new 
form  must  be  invented.     This,  to  be  sure,  has 

1  I 


Samuel  Pepys 


long  ago  been  done  ;  the  private  letter  and  the 
casual  diary  now  compete  for  fame  on  equal 
terms  with  the  tragedy  or  the  epic  ;  and  Pepys, 
no  doubt  very  much  to  his  surprise,  has  become 
one  of  the  figures  of  our  literary  history.  He  has 
indeed  become  more  than  this,  for  the  volumes 
which  80  picturesque  a  series  of  chances  has 
protected  for  us  have  a  different  kind  of  value  as 
a  mere  transcript  of  events,  a  record  of  con- 
temporary gossip  about  people  and  things ;  and 
from  this  point  of  view  Pepys  has  also  become 
an  historical  authority.  But  the  pages  that  fol- 
low  do  not,  as  will  be  seen,  profess  to  deal  with 
this  aspect  of  his  wonderful  book.  A  personal 
sketch  of  the  man  who  enjoyed  his  life  so  liberally 
and  pictured  it  so  forcibly  is  all  that  can  here  be 
attempted. 

Such  an  attempt  is  the  more  worth  making 
that  Pepys  has  so  indisputably  been  made  to  stand 
for  a  type.  His  name  expresses  in  our  day, 
rightly  or  wrongly,  as  marked  a  conjunction  of 
qualities  as  the  name  of  Falstail  or  of  Juan.     This 


Samuel  Pepys 


book  will  aim  at  giving  in  as  much  detail  as  pos- 
sible some  account  of  these  qualities,  and  before 
the  end  is  reached  it  may  perhaps  look  as  though 
there  were  more  of  them  than  the  type  in  ques- 
tion would  suggest — more  of  them  indeed,  and 
more  self -contradictory,  than  it  could  seem 
likely  that  one  human  being,  typical  or  otherwise, 
should  embrace.  Pepys  was  surely  too  exuberant, 
too  many-sided,  too  greedy  of  all  sorts  of  incom- 
patible aspects  of  life,  to  be  anything  but  an 
extraordinary  and  isolated  individual.  Yet  it 
is  not  for  nothing  that  a  name  becomes  thus 
consecrated  as  a  universal  symbol,  and  Pepys' 
torrent  of  self-revelation,  with  all  its  peculiar 
contrasts,  may  really  reflect  habitual  and  general 
humanity.  It  at  any  rate  needed  a  man  who 
adopted  the  world's  standards  and  respected 
its  hypocrisies  as  ingenuously  as  did  Pepys,  to 
give  the  whole  convention  away  so  thoroughly. 
There  is  not  one  grain  of  irony  in  any  line  that 
he  wrote,  and  after  so  naked  and  unconscious  an 
exposure  of  the  tacit  compromise  upon  which 


Samuel  Pepys 


Samuel  Pepys 


our  civilized  life  is  based,  it  should  be  difficult 
to  treat  it  solemnly.     The  difficulty  is  still  some- 
how solved;    but  at  the  same  time  the  v^orld 
indemnifies  itself  for  its  enforced  decorum  upon 
this    chattering,    bustling,    self-important    man, 
dead  now  for   more  than  two  hundred  years. 
The  place  that  Pepys  occupies  in  our  literature, 
the  place  which  is  all  his  own,  is  that,  simply 
and  essentially,  of  the  ordinary  man.     For  that 
place  he  has,  it  would  seem,  as  yet  no  serious 
competitor.      His  name  is  perhaps  never  men- 
tioned without  an  indulgent  smile,  a  twinkle,  a 
half-patronizing,    half-roguish    implication    that 
we  are  all  like  that  at  bottom,  that  his  Diary  is 
the  kind  we  should  all  keep  if  we  were  honest 
with  ourselves.     Other   writers  are   exceptions, 
brains   of  special   power,   imaginations   of   out- 
standing strength;    he  alone  is  Everyman,  the 
type  of  average  mortality,  the  sum  of  all  its 
desires  and  efforts.     If  that  is  so,  no  wonder  that 
the  accidental  book  which  gives  his  portrait  has 
found  a  place  of  its  own  in  our  literature. 


The  family  of  Pepys  was  a  substantial  though 
inconspicuous  stock,  long  established  in  Cam- 
bridgeshire, and  more  especially  at  the  village  of 
Cottenham.  Their  early  history  is  obscure,  but 
the  name  is  found  as  far  back  as  the  thirteenth 
century.  They  were  evidently  small  yeomen 
farmers,  and  appear  to  have  owed  something  to 
the  proximity  of  the  Abbey  of  Crowland.  One 
of  them,  we  learn,  was  bailiff  of  the  Abbot's 
Cambridgeshire  lands  in  the  reign  of  Henry 
Vni  ;  but  the  legend,  which  Samuel  appears 
to  have  believed,  that  this  man  was  born  at 
Dunbar,  and  that  the  Pepyses  "did  certainly 
come  out  of  Scotland  with  the  Abbot,"  ^  has 
no  ascertainable  foundation.  Anyhow,  by  the 
beginning  of  the  seventeenth  century  their  posi- 
tion in  the  county  was  ancient  and  respectable ; 
and  when  the  Diarist,  finding  the  family  un- 
noticed in  Fuller's  Worthies,  remarks,  "  I  believe, 
indeed,  our  family  were  never  considerable,"  * 
he  does  not  at  all  mean,  as  Mr.  Wheatley  has 

1  Diary,  June  12,  1667*.        ^  Djajy,  February  10,  1662. 


Samuel  Pepys 


pointed  out,  that  they  were  not  gentlefolk,  but 
merely  that  they  had  never  risen  to  distinction. 
The  beginmng  of  their  rise  in  a  wider  field  was 
marked  by  the  marriage,  somewhere  about  1620, 
of  Samuel's  great-aunt,  Paulina  Pepys,  with  Sir 
Sidney  Montagu,  a  member  of  the  Long  Parlia- 
ment and  a  Royalist  of  some  note — ^a  marriage 
which  proved  of  importance  to  the  lady's  family, 
for  she  became  the  mother  of  the  first  Earl  of 
Sandwich,  the  influential  patron  and  friend  of 
Samuel.  Paulina's  brother  Thomas  "  the  Black  " 
(so-called  to  distinguish  him  from  a  younger 
brother,  Thomas  "  the  Pvcd  ")  had  a  large  family. 
His  third  son,  John,  married  in  1626  a  lady 
whose  maiden  name  is  unknown,  and  became  on 
February  23,  1633,  the  father  of  Samuel  Pepys 
the  Diarist. 

Samuel's  immediate  family  did  not  by  any 
means  share  his  capacity  and  spirit.  His  father 
seems  to  have  been  a  good,  feeble,  muddling 
kind  of  man,  of  indifferent  health;  and  his 
mother,  to  whom  her  son  regretfully  refers  on 


Samuel  Pepys 


one  occasion  as  "  such  a   fool,"  1  did  not  help 
to  make  the  world  easier  for  him.     John  Pepys 
migrated  from  Cambridgeshire  to  London,  and 
later  on,  at  the  time  when  the  Diary  opens  (1660), 
was  settled  there  as  a  highly  unsuccessful  tailor. 
A  year  later  he  inherited  from  his  eldest  brother 
Robert,  a  house  and  a  small  estate,  worth  about 
^80  a  year,  at  Brampton,  near  Huntingdon.    This 
meant    affluence    to    the    barely-solvent    tailor, 
and  was  the  end  of  his  efforts  to  support  himself 

in  trade. 

Nothing  is  known  of  Samuel's  childhood  beyond 
what  can  be  gathered  from  casual  references  in 
the  Diary.     He  was  probably  born  in  London, 
but  even  this   is  not   certain.    In   the   Lije  of 
Colet  by   Samuel   Knight   (a   connexion  of   the 
Pepyses),  he  is  said  to  have  been  born  at  Brampton, 
but  as  the  Brampton  church  registers  do  not  go 
back  as  far  as  1633  this  statement  cannot  now  be 
confirmed.     From  what  we  know  of  his  parents  it 
must  have  been  a  somewhat  disordered  household, 

1    Diary,  April  28,  1661. 


\ 


8 


Samuel  Pepys 


Samuel  Pepys 


W 


more  especially  as  between  1627  and  1641  there 
were  born  with  dreadful  regularity  no  less  than 
eleven   children.     Of   these    only   four   survived 
childhood— Samuel  (who  was  the  fifth  child  and 
second  son),  Thomas  (1634H54),  Paulina  (1640-80), 
and  John  (1641-77).     It  is  not  surprising  to  find ' 
that  two  of  them,   Samuel  and  Thomas,  were 
boarded  out  as  children  with  a  certain  "  Goody 
Lawrence,"  at  Kingsland ;   by  the  time  the  fifth 
and  sixth  arrived  it  may  well  have  got  beyond 
the  harassed   parents  to  cope  with  so   uninter- 
rupted a  succession.     But  except  that  in  after 
years,  as  he  walked  to  Kingsland  over  the  fields 
from  Islington,  Samuel  recalled  how  he  used  to 
shoot  with  his  bow  and  arrows  there  as  a  boy,2 
we  hear  nothing  more  of  this  episode  in  his  life. 
On  another  occasion'  he  mentions  meeting  a 
friend,  "one  that  went  to  school  with  me  at 
Huntingdon  " ;  but  of  this  too  we  learn  no  more. 
He  was  no  doubt  what  is  called  a  "  sharp  boy," 

1  Diary,  April  25,  1664.  2  ibid.    May  12,  1667. 

•  Ibid.    March  15,  i66o- 


well  able  to  take  care  of  himself,  and  he  nowhere 
gives  the  impression  that  his  childhood  was  not 
a  happy  one  ;  but  if,  as  we  judge,  it  was  a  hand-to- 
mouth  existence,  without  much  of  a  home  for 
it  to  centre  round,  that  will  account  for  the 
matter-of-fact  candour  with  which  in  his  Diary 
he  usually  refers  to  his  nearest  relations.  He 
was  fond  of  his  father  in  a  way,  and  he  felt 
some  natural  emotion  on  his  mother's  death, 
but  he  was  highly  impatient  of  their  feeble 
improvidence  and  generally  slipshod  ways.  Of 
his  brothers,  Tom  appears  to  have  been  fully  as 
ineffectual  as  his  father*,  and  John  not  very  much 
better.  As  for  the  unfortunate  Paulina,  usually 
known  as  Pall,  the  allusions  to  her  character, 
her  manners,  and  her  looks  are  all  equally  un- 
flattering. 

Samuel  was  for  a  time  an  exhibitioner  of  St. 
Paul's  School,  London.  This  was  during  the 
Civil  War,  and  at  that  period  he  was  a  great 
Roundhead,  a  fact  which  he  was  troubled  to  be 
reminded  of  years  later  by  an  old  school  friend. 


lO 


Samuel  Pepys 


"  I  was  much  afraid,"  he  says,  "  that  he  would 
have  remembered  the  words  that  I  said  the  day 
the  King  was  beheaded  (that,  were  I  to  preach 
upon  him,  my  text  should  be — '  The  memory 
of  the  wicked  shall  rot ')  ;  but  I  found  afterwards 
that  he  did  go  away  from  school  before  that 
time."  1  Pepys  kept  up  an  interest  in  the  school 
in  after  life;  he  gave  Stef hens' s  Thesaurus 
Graeccs  Linguce  to  the  library  and  attended  a 
speech-day;  but  no  other  memories  survive  of 
his  school  days.  On  June  21,  1650,  he  was 
admitted  as  a  sizar  to  Trinity  Hall,  Cambridge* 
but  for  some  reason  he  changed  his  mind  before 
going  into  residence,  and  on  October  i,  of  the 
same  year  was  admitted,  again  as  a  sizar,  to 
Magdalene  College.  He  began  to  reside  on 
March  5,  1 65 1.  A  month  later  he  was  elected 
to  a  Spendluffe  scholarship,  a  foundation  dating 
from  1584,  and  in  October,  1653,  to  another, 
founded  by  John  Smith,  a  recent  "  President " 
(what  would  elsewhere  be  called  Vice-master) 
of  the  College. 

^  Diary,  November  i,  1660^ 


Samuel  Pepys 


II 


Magdalene  at  that  time  consisted  only  of  the 
picturesque  little  brick  court  which  fronts  upon 
the  street.     One    angle    of    it   formed   part   of 
the  Old  Master's  Lodge ;    otherwise  the  general 
arrangement    of    the  building  was  much  what 
it  is  now.     When  Pepys  was  an  undergraduate 
a    project    was     already    on    foot     to    add    a 
second    court    at   the    back ;    but   the   beauti- 
ful   arcaded   building,  with  which  his  name  is 
now  inseparably    connected,    was    not    erected 
till  towards  the  end  of  the  century.     The  Master 
of  the  College  was  John  Sadler,  who  was  ap- 
pointed in  1650  and  held   the   post   until    the 
Restoration.     He  had  been  Town  Clerk  of  London 
and  was  favourably  looked  upon  by  Cromwell ; 
during  his  Mastership  he  was  for  a  time  Member 
of    Parliament    for    Cambridge.    Pepys's    tutor 
was  Samuel  Morland,  a  man  of  some  enterprise, 
who,  after  having  made  himself  useful  in  turn 
to   Cromwell  and   to   Charles   H,   and   having 
received  a   Baronetcy  from  the    latter,   passed 
his  later  years  and  spent  his  substance  in  various 


12 


Samuel  Pepys 


mechanical  inventions,  speaking-trumpets,  calcu- 
lating machines,  perpetual  almanacs,  and  so 
forth— "very  pretty,  but  not  very  useful," i 
remarks  Pepys  on  one  occasion. 

These  names  hardly  imply  an  atmosphere  of 
academic  calm  in  the  little  brick  College ;    the 
times  were  moving  too  fast  for  that.     But  some- 
how or  other  Pepys  must  have  acquired  a  fairly 
good  education,  to  judge  from  his  equipment  in 
languages  and  letters  a  few  years  later.     If  his 
knowledge  was  not  particularly  accurate,  he  at 
any  rate  carried  away  from  Cambridge  a  genuine 
interest  in  scholarship,  as  in  so  much  else.     He 
also  carried  away  a  lively  affection  for  the  place  ; 
and   he   would   have   been   pained   if    he    had 
foreseen  that  the  only  record  of  his  life  there 
which  the  college  was  to  preserve,  beyond  formal 
notices  of  his  admission  and  election  as  a  scholar, 
was  the  famous  entry  in  the  College  Register, 
dated   October   21,    1653,   in   Morland's   hand- 
writing:     "  Peapys    and    Hind    were    solemnly 

^    Diary,  March  14,  i668 


Samuel  Pepys 


13 


admonished  by  myself  and  Mr.  HiU  for  having 
been  scandalously  overserved  with  drink  ye  night 
before.  This  was  done  in  the  presence  of  all  the 
Fellows  then  resident,  in  Mr.  Hill's  Chamber." 
The  only  other  indication  of  his  tastes  and  occu- 
pations at  Magdalene  is  found  in  an  entry  in  the 
Diary  (January  30,  1664)  : — 

"  This  evening,  being  in  a  humour  of  making 
all  things  even  and  clear  in  the  world,  I  tore  some 
old  papers ;  among  others,  a  romance  which 
(under  the  title  of  Love  a  Cheats)  I  begun  ten 
years  ago  at  Cambridge  ;  and  at  this  time  reading 
it  over  to-night  I  liked  it  very  well,  and  wondered 
a  little  at  myself  at  my  vein  at  that  time  when  I 
wrote  it,  doubting  that  I  cannot  do  so  well  now 
if  I  would  try." 

This  is  all ;  but  it  is  enough  to  show  us  much 
the  same  Pepys  as  later  on  we  know  so  well :  full 
of  life,  making  the  most  of  his  time,  delighted 
with  any  new  idea,  and  ready  for  all  the  simplest 
forms  of  merry-making.  Friends  he  can  never 
have  lacked,  and  some  of  them,  such  as  Richard 


14 


Samuel  Pepys 


Cumberland,  afterwards  Bishop  of  Peterborough, 
remained  friends  in  after  life. 

Pepys  took  his  degree  in  1653,  and  for  a  time 
disappears  altogether  from  sight.     How  he  spent 
the  next  two  years  is  unknown.     It  is  possible 
that  we  have  a  glimpse  of  them  in  some  lines  of 
the  Diary  (July  26,  1663)  which  describe  a  visit 
to  Epsom,  "with  great    pleasure    viewing    my 
old  walks,  where  Mrs.  Hely  and  I  did  use  to  walk 
and  talk,  with  whom  I  had  the  first  sentiments  of 
love  and  pleasure  in  woman's  company,  discourse, 
and  taking  her  by  the  hand,  she  being  a  pretty 
woman."     But  Pepys  was   forward  for  his  age, 
and  if  we  know  him  this  idyll  must  go  back  to 
an  earlier  time.     He  only  reappears  for  certain 
in     the    registers    of    St.    Margaret's    Church, 
Westminster,  where  his  marriage  is  recorded,  on 
December  r,  1655,  with  Elizabeth  St.  Michel.^ 

1  We  find  in  the  Diary,  curiously  enough,  that  both  Pepys 
and  his  wife  believed  their  wedding-day  to  have  been  October 
10.  It  has  been  suggested  as  a  possible  explanation  of  the 
discrepancy  that  the  ceremony  at  St.  Margaret's  was  preceded 
by  a  marriage  at  a  French  Protestant  Church,  but  this  cannot 
be  confirmed. 


Samuel  Pepys 


15 

Mrs.    Samuel  Pepys   was   the   daughter   of  a 
needy  Frenchman,  who  at  twenty-one  had  been 
disinherited  by  his  father  for  becoming  a  Pro- 
testant.   He  never  afterwards  succeeded  in  gaining 
a  secure  footing  in  life.     He  was  a  member  of 
the  household  which  Henrietta  Maria  brought 
over  to  England  on  her  marriage,  but  was  dis- 
missed for  refusing  to  attend  mass,  and,  more 
immediately,  for  "  striking  a  friar  "  in  argument, 
so  his  son  afterwards  told  Pepys.i    He  married 
a  widow,  daughter  of  Sir  Francis  KingsmiU,  with 
whom  he  led  a  restless  and  usually  necessitous 
Hfe.     His   many   schemes   for   raising   funds   aU 
ended  in  disaster,  including  an  attempt  to  recover 
Hs  patrimony.    He  settled  for  a  time  in  Devon- 
shire,  where  his  children  were  born.     He  after- 
wards transferred  them  to  Paris,  and  had  only 
returned   to  England  a   short  while  when  his 
daughter  married  Pepys.     She  was  at  this  time 
a  pretty  girl  of  fifteen ;   Pepys  was  only  twenty- 

^^^Letter  from  Balthazar  St.  Michel  to  Pepys,  February  8, 


i 


i6 


Samuel  Pepys 


two,  and  the  match  was  a  highly  improvident 
one  on  both  sides.  St.  Michel,  though  he  was 
delighted  that  his  daughter  should  marry  a  good 
Protestant,  could  certainly  make  no  provision 
for  her.  "  My  father,"  writes  his  son  Balthazar 
in  the  letter  already  quoted,  "  at  last  grew  full  of 
whimsies  and  propositions  of  perpetual  motion, 
etc.,  to  kings,  princes,  and  others,  which  soaked 
his  pocket,  and  brought  all  our  family  so  low  by 
his  not  minding  anything  else^  spending  all  he 
had  got  and  getting  no  other  employment  to 
bring  in  more."  It  is  true  that  at  a  later  period 
it  was  reserved  for  this  unfortunate  gentleman 
(among  so  many  others)  to  discover  "  King  Solo- 
mon's gold  and  silver  mines,"  but  it  is  sad  to  say 
that  even  after  that  an  allowance  of  four  shillings 
a  week  from  the  French  church  was  all  that  he 
and  his  wife  had  to  live  upon.  Pepys,  meanwhile, 
in  1655  had  as  yet  no  settled  employment. 

At  this  juncture  the  situation  was  saved  by  the 
one  influential  connexion  of  the  Pepys  family. 
Sir  Edward  Montagu,  first  cousin  of    Samuel's 


Samuel  Pepys 


17 

father,   was  a   personal  friend   of  Cromwell,   a 
member  of  the  Council  of  State  and  a  Commis- 
sioner of  the  Treasury.     In  January,  1656,  at  the 
age  of  thirty  and  with  no  previous  experience 
of  the  navy,  Montagu  was  appointed  "  conjoint 
general  at  sea  "  with  Blake.     It  is  possible  that 
he  may  before  this  have  come  to  the  assistance  of 
his  poor  relations  ;   Mr.  Wheatley  suggests  that 
it  was  he  who  enabled  Pepys  to  go  to  CoUege  : 
anyhow  in   this  year    1656   he   took   his  young 
cousin  to  act  as  a  kind  of  agent  for  him  during 
his  absences  from  home.     Montagu  had  already 
been  married  for  thirteen  years  and  had  a  growing 
famUy.     There    were    many   ways   in     which   a 
capable  and  confidential  secretary  could  be  use- 
ful to  the  household,  and  Pepys  was  eminently 
fitted  for  them  all.     He  and  his  wife  were  lodged 
in    Montagu's  London  house,  and  their   future 
was  now  provided  for. 

Pepys,  in  later  days  of  prosperity,  teUs  ^  how 
he  lay  long  in  bed  one  morning,  talking  over  old 

^  Diary,  February  25,  1667. 


i8 


Samuel  Pepys 


times  with  his  wife  and  recalling  "  how  she  used 
to  make  coal  fires,  and  wash  my  foul  clothes  with 
her  own  hand  for  me,  poor  wretch  !  in  our  little 
room  at  my  Lord  Sandwich's ;  for  which  I 
ought  ever  to  love  and  admire  her,  and  do."  It 
was  not  for  the  moment  a  very  brilliant  position, 
but  Pepys  devoted  himself  to  it  with  characteristic 
zest  for  detail,  and  had  his  reward  in  the  sincere 
and  well-deserved  attachment  with  which  the 
family  always  afterwards  regarded  him.  Later 
on,  when  their  affairs  grew  disordered,  Lady 
Sandwich  in  discussing  them  with  Pepys  dolefully 
recalled  "  how  finely  things  were  ordered  .  .  . 
when  I  lived  there  and  my  Lord  at  sea  every 
year."  ^  Throughout  life  any  kind  of  untidiness 
was  distressing  to  Pepys.  Waste  of  money  and 
muddled  accounts  afflicted  his  sense  of  propriety 
like  a  badly-cooked  dinner  or  an  unswept  room. 
In  this,  as  has  already  been  seen,  he  was  very 
unlike  his  own  family,  and  what  was  still  more 


^  Diary,  June  29,  1664. 


Samuel  Pepys 


19 


unfortunate,  it  was  to  prove  that  he  was  very 
unlike  his  wife.     Mrs.  Pepys  was  a   faithful  and 
on  the  whole  submissive  wife  under  many  and 
severe  provocations.     She  had  much  to  put  up 
with  from   her    husband's   masculine   blend   of 
jealousy  and  neglect.     But  to  a  man  like  Pepys 
this  pretty,  empty-headed  girl,  who  never  could 
manage  to  keep  *her  things  in  order,  was  often 
enough  peculiarly  irritating.     It  was  inconceivable 
to  him,  as  it  always  is  to  a  methodical  person, 
that  it  should  be  easier  to  be  untidy  than  neat, 
haphazard   than    punctual,    confused   and   slip- 
shod in  mind  than  clear  and  intelligible.     Equally 
it  was  difficult  for  him  to  understand  that  in 
order  to  light  fires  and  wash  linen  like  a  good 
housewife,  the  "  poor  wretch  "  required  a  differ- 
ent motive — the  desire  to  please  her  husband. 
They  were  neither  of  them  models  of  forbearance, 
but  they  loved  each  other  well  and  made  up 
their  quarrels  almost  as  easily  as  they  started  them. 
There   was  always  something   child-like   about 
their    wranglings    and  reconciliations,    and    in 


20 


Samuel  Pepys 


these  early  days  in  the  little  room  at  the  Mon- 
tagus' they  were  both  very  young  indeed. 

The  next  event  in  Pepys'  life  was  one  on  which 
he  ever  after  looked  back  with  interest  and  some- 
thing  like  pride.  On  March  26,  1658,  he  was 
"  cut  for  the  stone."  The  operation  was  success- 
ful, and  in  spite  of  occasional  alarms  the  complaint 
did  not  trouble  him  again  for  more  than  forty 
years.  The  anniversary  of  this  great  day  was 
celebrated  year  by  year  by  a  family  dinner  :  he 
speaks  of  it  as  "  the  day  of  my  solemnity  for  my 
cutting  of  the  stone."  1  With  ready  gusto  the 
stone  itself,  in  a  case  specially  made  for  it,  was 
exhibited  to  his  friends.  More  than  once  it 
was  carried  for  the  inspection  of  some  sufferer 
from  the  same  complaint,  to  encourage  him  to 
submit  to  an  operation.  It  was  indeed,  one  of 
the  most  highly  prized  of  all  Pepys'  possessions. 

In  1659,  Montagu  was  sent  with  the  fleet  to 
the  Sound,  as  one  of  the  commissioners  for  the 
negotiation  of  peace  between  Sweden  and  Den- 

^  Diary,  March  16,  1669. 


Samuel  Pepys 


21 


mark,  and  on  this  expedition  Pepys  accompanied 
him.  Montagu,  who  had  been  a  loyal  and  favoured 
supporter  of  Cromwell  up  to  the  Protector's 
death,  was  by  this  time  thoroughly  discouraged 
by  the  political  outlook,  and  was  beginning  to 
hold  communication  with  Charles  II.  Pepys 
knew  nothing  of  this  until  the  following  year, 
after  the  Restoration,  when  his  respect  for  his 
patron's  discretion  was  much  enhanced  by  the 
discovery.  But  for  the  moment  all  such  schemes 
were  premature,  and  on  the  return  of  the  fleet 
to  England,  Montagu  found  it  prudent  to  retire 
for  a  few  months  into  private  life.  Pepys,  mean- 
while, obtained  a  place,  with  a  salary  of  ^^50, 
in  the  office  of  Mr.  (afterwards  Sir)  George 
Downing,  one  of  the  four  Tellers  of  the  Receipt 
of  the  Exchequer.  He  and  his  wife,  with  one 
maid,  moved  into  a  house  in  Axe  Yard,  West- 
minster, a  site  now  occupied  by  Government 
offices ;  and  here  they  were  living  when,  on 
January  i  of  the  following  year  (1660),  Pepys 
began  to  keep  a  diary. 


:i 


) 


ii 


22 


Samuel  Pepys 


By  this  time  the  world  was  beginning  to  enlarge 
round  him,  and  his  character  to  form.  His  con- 
nexion  with  Montagu  had  opened  a  wider  circle 
to  him  than  could  have  been  expected  for  the 
son  of  a  small  struggling  tailor  from  the  provinces. 
But  though  he  owed  his  first  opportunities  to 
his  patron,  his  steady  rise  was  entirely  due  to 
himself.  Montagu's  influence,  indeed,  especially 
just  at  this  moment,  was  by  no  means  powerful 
enough  to  make  a  man  who  could  not  make 
himself.  Pepys'  patron  was  a  man  of  sound 
parts,  but  he  owed  his  position,  such  as  it  was, 
more  to  accidental  advantages,  his  birth,  his 
friendship  with  Cromwell,  and  so  forth,  than  to 
his  own  brain  and  character.  Pepys  was  always 
grateful  and  attached  to  him,  and  never  dreams 
of  speaking  lightly  of  him,  but  he  was  not  in  any 
way  a  man  of  natural  or  commanding  distinction. 
However,  a  patron  to  job  him  into  place  and 
fortune  was  not  in  the  least  what  Pepys  required  ; 
he  was  extremely  well  able  to  make  his  own  way. 
Once  introduced  to  men  of  affairs,  his  own  ability 


Samuel  Pepys 


23 


carried  him  steadily  forward.     He  had  a  great 
qualification  for  a  good  ofiicial  in  his  power  of 
grasping    confused    detail,   and   of    putting    it 
straight.     He  loved  his  work,  whatever  it  was ;  or 
perhaps  one  should  rather  say  he  loved  to  get  it 
satisfactorily  finished,  which  came  to  much  the 
same  thing.    He  was  diligent,  or  rather  he  en- 
joyed diligence  so  much  that  he  took  great  pains 
to  induce  himself  to  practise  it.     By  the  standard 
of  his  day,  and,  indeed,  by  a  considerably  higher 
standard  than  that,  he  was  notably  trustworthy. 
If  his  central  motives  were  seldom  disinterested, 
that  did  not  matter  to  his  employers,  for  he  was 
sharp  enough  to  see  that  a  reputation  for  honesty 
was  an  effective  card  to  hold.     Besides,  he  had 
a  conscience  as  well  in  such  matters,  which  did 
not  like  to  be  disturbed  without  good  reason. 
Add  to  all  this  that  he  was  ready  of  tongue,  and 
knew  how  to  address  his  superiors  with  the  right 
shades  of  respect  and  self-importance,  and  we 
have  the  kind  of  man  who  will  make  himself  felt 
in  office-work,  and  whom  the  staff  will  regard 


)  I 


24 


Samuel  Pepys 


with  mixed  feelings.  To  those  incontestably 
above  him,  he  will  be  a  satisfaction  and  a  treasure. 
To  those  with  whom  he  competes,  he  will  be  an 
object  of  suspicion. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  Pepys'  colleagues  must 
have   thought   him   self-assertive   and   officious. 
He  certainly  was  fully  conscious  of  doing  better 
work  for  his  pay  than  his  neighbours  held  to  be 
necessary.     His  qualities  were  a  tacit  reproach 
to  his  fellows,  and  he  did  not  deny  himself  a 
keen  appreciation  of  this  fact.     But  a  gift  for 
sociability,  a  companionable  turn,  a  readiness  to 
share  a  glass  or  a  joke,  may  prevail  in  such  cases 
against  the  resentment  aroused  by  an  unnatural 
addiction  to  business.     To  all  but  the  very  jealous, 
Pepys'  convivial  soul  was  disarming  ;  in  his  hours 
of  ease  no  one  could  call  that  cheerful,  round- 
faced  youth  a  prig.     He  could  enjoy  himself  with- 
out standing  upon  his  dignity.     He  could  drink 
aiid  giggle  and  romp  with  the  landlord's  daughter 
like  any  one  else.     He  adored  life,  he  was  as  much 
absorbed  in  it  as  a  child.     He  was  old  for  his 


Samuel  Pepys 


25 


years  in  his  sense  of  responsibility,  but  in  his 
unwearying  curiosity  he  had  never  grown  up. 
There  was  nothing  which  he  could  put  aside  as 
of  no  interest  to  him.    He  wanted  to  know  every- 
thing, to  go  everywhere,  to  practise  all  the  arts, 
to  cram  every  moment  with  something  memor- 
able.    The  whole  surface  of  existence,  as  it  pre- 
sented itself  to  him,  was  alluring.     Books  and 
music,   drinking   and  love-making,   serious   talk, 
unmannerly  mirth — ^he  desired  them  all  in  turn, 
and  in  turn  surrendered  himself  to  their  enjoy- 
ment.    He  cultivated  experience,  and  cultivated 
it  simply  for  its  own  sake.     He  had  no  irony, 
and  never  pretended  to  hold  the  world  lightly. 
The  world  was  his  life,  and  he  never  thought  of 
questioning  its  importance.     He  took  it  perfectly 
seriously,  and  delighted  in  it  without  pause  or 
misgiving. 

To  suck  the  pleasure  out  of  life  at  this  rate, 
and  never  to  turn  in  disgust  from  the  dried 
remains,  was  a  feat  which  was  made  possible  to 
Pepys  by  his  complete  superficiality.     I  do  not 


f 


It 


iiil 


26 


Samuel  Pepys 


use  this  word  in  a  disparaging  sense,  but  merdy 
as  implying  that  existence  for  him  was  entirely 
concentrated,  so  to  speak,  upon  the  surface  of 
the  moment.  Just  as  he  was  never  for  an  instant 
detained  by  the  desire  for  consistency,  so  he  was 
never  shadowed  by  regret  for  the  moment,  as  it 
slipped  past  and  out  of  sight.  Every  day  as  it 
arrived  was  something  fresh,  detached  from  the 
rest,  to  be  enjoyed  upon  its  merits.  He  had  a 
clean  sheet  for  it,  not,  like  most  people,  a  sheet 
already  marked  with  desires  for  the  past,  and 
apprehensions  for  the  future.  He  had  his  troubles, 
but  they  were  troubles  of  the  surface— his  health, 
his  idle  servants,  his  poor  relations,  and  so  forth, 
— ^not  the  more  poisonous  troubles  which  are  bred 
by  the  imagination.  He  addressed  himself  alike 
to  his  pleasures  and  to  his  sorrows  with  absolute 
simplicity — distressed  by  his  sorrows  as  vividly 
as  he  was  elated  by  his  pleasures,  but  in  both 
alike  passing  with  equal  ease,  an  equal  absence 
of  preoccupation,  from  one  moment  to  the  next. 
If  he  was  child-like  in  his  ingenuous  surrender 


Samuel  Pepys 


27 


to  things  as  they  came,  Pepys  at  twenty-seven 
was  mature  enough  in  his  sense  of  the  world's 
opinion.    His    conventionaUty    was  at  least    as 
great  as  his  simplicity,  and  where  his  delight  in 
experience  clashed  with  the  part  he  wished  to 
assume  in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  he  was  careful 
to   protect  himself  as  effectively  as  he   could. 
The  part  he  chose  was  one  of  impeccable  respect- 
ability, and  he  put  as  much  zest  into  the  perform- 
ance as  into  his  concealed  deflections  from  it. 
He  was  highly  conscious  of  what  people  thought 
of  him,  and  knew  very  weU  that  he  was  upon  his 
probation,  with  his  career   stiU  to  make.    He 
longed  with  aU  his  heart  for  a  soUd  position  in 
the  world  which  he  loved.     He  candidly  wanted 
money,  plate,  servants,  a  carriage  and  pair,  and  did 
not  question  the  right  of  the  world  to  reserve  its 
respect  for  things  like  these.    He  respected  them 
himself,  and  worked  for  them  in  aU  seriousness. 

An  egoist,  a  laborious  and  disinterested  friend, 
a  student,  a  sensuaUst,  an  upright  and  God-fear- 
ing man,  a  timid  opportunist-these  were'only 


Hi 


I 


't\ 


if. 


28 


Samuel  Pepys 


a  few  of  the   different  natures  which  in   turn 
asserted  themselves  in  Pepys'  character.      And 
instead  of  finding  him  torn  and  tormented  among 
so  many  incompatible  instincts,  each  clamouring 
for  its  own,  we  find  him  stepping  smartly  through 
life,  never  at  a  loss,  and  actually,  in  some  incredible 
fashion,   inducing   them   one   after   another   to 
minister   submissively   to   his   satisfaction.    We 
may  disentangle  the  motives  of  such  a  man,  we 
may  watch  him  in  his  different  moods,  we  may 
smile  at  the  simplicity  with  which  he  passes  from 
one  to  the  next,  we  may  praise  and  blame  him 
in  turn.    We  may  follow  him  step  by  step,  daily 
and  hourly,  through  the  years  of  his  intensely 
vivid  life,  and  measure  his  exact  attitude  towards 
his  work  and    his  amusements  and  his  friends. 
But  who  can  define  the  central  identity  which 
lurks  in  the  middle  of  it  all,  or  explain  the  alchemy 
which  can  fuse  a  hundred  hostile  elements  into 
a  single  complacent  human  character  ?    There 
we  are  baffled  :  the  process  which  seems  to  be  so 
nakedly    revealed    is    after    all    beyond    us.     Sir 


Samuel  Pepys 


29 


Edward  Montagu's  promising  young  cousin  had 
the  secret  of  it,  but  though  he  could  tell  us  every- 
thing else,  he  could  not  tell  us  that. 

And  this,  then,  is  the  ordinary  man,  the  com- 
monplace soul  whom  we  may  all  patronize,  to 
whom  we  may  give  our  indulgence  because  we 
are  all  like  that  at  bottom.     It  may  be  so  ;   but 
if  it  is,  what  opportunities  we  are  missing  !     If 
only  we  could  hear  more  of  all  the  rest !     It  is 
hard  that    there    should    be    only  one    Pepys' 
Diary,  if  there  might  be  so  many.     Perhaps  a 
future  generation  will  be  more  fortunate.     Per- 
haps even  now  some  sedate  man  of  business,  some 
capable    official,    some    unsuspected    soldier    or 
sailor  or  solicitor,  is  covering  the  daily  page,  to 
reveal  to  our  great-grandchildren  what  an  ordi- 
nary man  is  like. 

Meanwhile,  we  have  only  the  promising  youth 
who  sat  down  to  the  first  page  of  his  Journal  on 
January  i,  1660. 


I' 


llii^ 


f  ? 


If 


p. 


Chapter  II 

PEPYS  kept  his  Diary  very  nearly  without 
intermission   from  January   i,    1660,   to 
June    30,    1669.     The    manuscript    fills 
six  stout  note-books  of  about  500  pages  each. 
The  first  volume  is  an  octavo,   the  rest  small 
quartos.     It  is  written  throughout  in  shorthand, 
the  system  being  that  of  John  Shelton,  who  pub- 
lished the  first  edition  of  his  Tachygraphy  in  1620, 
though  it  was  the  sixth  edition  (1641),  revised 
and   re-arranged,    which   was   used   by   Pepys.^ 
The  writing  is,  for  the  most  part,  extremely  close 
and   neat,   though   it   deteriorates   towards   the 
end,  when  his  eyes  began  to  trouble  him.     The 
proper  names  are  invariably  written  in  longhand. 

^  For  a  full  account  of  the  STstem  see  a  paper  by  the  late 
Mr.  J.  E.  Bailey,  F.S.A.,  "  On  the  Cipher  of  Pepys'  Diary," 
read  before  the  Manchester  Literary  Club,  December  14,  1875 
(published  among  the  papers  of  the  Club,  vol.  ii,  1876). 


so 


iif 


C' 


.^      .>/-:-/ 


/ 


/ 


''^ 


A  V- 


u     /^       f 


/%         ^   /Y44  //  •     / 


^'f  I  • 


T' 


U        ^' 


X       I 


■4^ 


otC     »     .-.      lUt*^ 


^    C  c   / '  i^-Xv   ^ 


'V 


>  J 


By  perttiission  of  Messrs.  George  Belt  tr  ioHi. 

Page  of  the  MS.  of  Pepys'  Diary. 


'II 


Samuel  Pepys 


31 


The  volumes,  with  their  rubricated  pages  and  clear 
penmanship,  are  models  of  the  most  scrupulous 

tidiness. 

Pepys  was  an  expert  in  the  art  of  shorthand. 
He  used  it  extensively  in  his  official  work,  and 
we  find  him  preparing  a  system  for  the  use  of  his 
patron.    It  was  no  doubt  partly  for  speed  and 
convenience  that  he  used  it  in  his  Diary  ;  but  far 
more  it  was  for  concealment.     There  never  was 
a  diary  so  jealously  preserved  from  all  risk  of  dis- 
covery.   He  habitually  wrote  it  at  his  office,  so 
that  even  his  wife  seems  to  have  known  nothing 
of  it.    He  once  let  out  to  a  friend,  Sir  William 
Coventry,  whom  he  found  "writing  up"  his 
journal,  that  he  also  kept  one  «  most  strictly  " ; 
this  was  nine  years  after  he  had   begun  it,  and 
he  declares    that  Coventry  was  the  only  man 
he  had  ever  told,  and  adds  that  he  regretted  it 
afterwards,  "  it  not  being  necessary,  nor  maybe 
convenient,  to  have  it  known."  ^    Particularly 
candid  passages,  such  as  seemed  to  require  special 

1  Diary,  March  9,  1669. 


32 


Samuel  Pepys 


concealment,  he  buried  still  deeper  than  the 
rest,  by  inserting  dummy  letters,  and  employing 
a  peculiar  jumble  of  foreign  languages.  He  often, 
indeed,  gives  the  impression  that  he  uses  these 
devices  to  disguise  the  nakedness  of  his  confidences 
even  from  himself.  There  is,  undoubtedly,  a 
gulf  between  entertaining  a  thought  and  writing 
it  down  in  hard  material  words,  which  even  the 
most  unabashed  may  prefer  to  bridge  by  some 
such  means.  Plain  words  become  too  like  pic- 
tures, reflecting  the  actual  image  of  the  things 
they  stand  for.  Remoter  symbols  are  required, 
ciphers,  unfamiliar  expressions,  and  so  forth  ;  they 
are  equally  intelligible  to  the  initiated,  and  some- 
how less  disconcerting.  The  fact  that  Pepys 
clothed  his  language  in  shorthand  is  thus  a  gain 
for  the  Diary  itself,  a  gain  in  ease  and  candour 
and  expansiveness. 

There  seems,  indeed,  as  we  read  on  and  on,  to 
be  nothing  whatever  that  Pepys  hesitates  to 
record.  I  do  not  merely  refer  to  the  indecencies, 
but  to  the  incredible  trivialities  which  he  punctu- 


Samuel  Pepys 


33 


■W' 


ally  chronicles.     He  buys  a  pair  of  lobsters  for 
dinner,  leaves  them  behind  in  the  coach,  and 
suddenly  remembers  them  while  he  is  in  the  middle 
of  saying  grace  :  it  takes  a  dozen  lines  of  graphic 
description  to  do  justice  to  the  incident.^    His 
hat  falls  under  the  pulpit  during  the  sermon,  and 
the  clerk  has  to  help  him  to  recover  it  with  a 
stick;  2  this  he  promptly  does,  and  the  whole 
adventure  is  over,  but  when  the  diary  is  written, 
it  has  to  be  included  with  the  rest  of  the  day's 
events.     A  man  in  the  street  had  "  a  great  and 
dirty  fall  over  a  water-pipe  "  «— a  memory  like 
this   cannot   be   allowed  to   perish.     The  same 
inexhaustible  profusion  of  detail  is  found  upon 
every  page.     He  starts  straight  off,  from  the  very 
first,  upon  the  same  liberal  scale,  and  keeps  it  up 
daily  without  a  pause  for  nearly  ten  years.     He 
was  a  busy  man,  and  it  is  not  surprising  that,  at 
this  rate,  the  Diary  often  fell  into  arrear,  some- 
times as  much  as  a  fortnight.    When  this  hap- 

1  Diary,  June  13,  1666.         *  April  28, 1667 
«  September  16,  1660 


"j^vJ^vs^-^HIBt^Cf . 


miaMdSiJi^«iii^St^St^'^^-^'''^''''^'^M/iiik 


34 


Samttel  Pepys 


pened,  rough  notes  were  kept  on  loose  sheets  of 
paper,  to  be  amplified  and  entered  upon  the  first 
opportunity.  Once  or  twice  the  opportunity 
never  came,  but  sooner  than  have  a  lacuna,  the 
loose  sheets  must  then  be  folded  and  inserted  in 
their  proper  place.  At  other  times  he  keeps 
himself  up  to  the  mark  by  the  help  of  a  vow  to 
kiss  no  woman  and  drink  no  wine  until  the  Diary 
has  been  brought  up  to  date. 

How  dear  the  record  was  to  him  is  measured 
by  the  time  and  trouble  which  it  cost.  He  loved 
it  as  part  of  his  adored  life,  and  he  kept  it  solely 
because  he  loved  it.  He  nowhere  hints  that 
he  has  any  other  object  in  view,  least  of  all  the 
object  of  ultimately  giving  it  to  the  world.  Nor 
does  he  appear  to  have  kept  it  for  the  future 
pleasure  of  reading  it.  He  never  once  speaks  of 
having  turned  back  the  pages  to  live  the  raptur- 
ous days  over  again — exactly  the  kind  of  thing 
he  would  have  recorded  if  he  had  ever  done  so. 
Sometimes,  indeed,  it  is  difficult  to  believe  that 
this  was  not  his  object,  as  when  he  describes  how 


Samuel  Pepys 


35 


the  bellman  passed  by  under  his  window  "  as  I 
was  writing  of  this  very  line,  and  cried.  Past  one 
of  the  clock,  and  a  cold,  frosty,  windy  morning  "  ;  * 
or  when  he  mentions  that  his  candle  is  going  out, 
"  which  makes  me  write  thus  slubberingly  "  :  * 
it  is  hard  to  think  that  such  loving  particularity 
was  not  consciously  designed  to  recall  later  on 
the  very  flavour  of  the  moment.     But  there  are 
no  signs  that,  in  after  years,  the  volumes  were 
ever  taken  down  from  the  shelf.    There  is  no 
correction   of   mistakes   in   the   manuscript,   no 
filling  in  of  missing  words,  no  alterations  of  any 
kind.3  *.  His  exacting  eye  would  surely  never  have 
tolerated  these  frequent  slips  of  the  pen  if  it  had 
ever  rested  on  them  again.     His  lust  for  repro- 
ducing his  whole  days  seems  to  have  been  purely 
artistic.     Just  as  the  artist   burns  to  reproduce 

1  January  i6,  i66o.  ^  October  26,  1662. 

8  The  only  apparent  exception  is  on  November  17,  1662, 
where  Pepys  writes  of  the  "  Duke  of  Monmouth,"  although 
the  title  was  not  officially  created  until  three  months  later. 
But  the  MS.  shows  no  sign  of  any  subsequent  alteration  or 
erasure. 


36 


Samuel  Pepys 


the  moment  which  strikes  him  as  significant,  and 
when  he  has  done  so  gives  it  no  further  thought, 
so  it  was  with  Pepys,  only  that  with  him  all 
moments  were  significant,  and  not  one  could  be 
spared.  To  give  form  to  the  life  which  he  tasted 
so  keenly,  that  was  all  he  wanted,  and  from  this 
point  of  view  the  Diary  is  a  purely  artistic  creation. 
Nothing  that  belonged  to  life,  public  or  private, 
could  be  out  of  place  in  it.  The  Restoration  of 
the  House  of  Stuart,  and  the  loss  of  the  lobsters 
for  dinner,  were  equally  part  of  his  treasured 
experience,  and  equally  demanded  permanent 
record,  although  where  every  minute  was  so  full, 
there  could  be  no  regretful  lingering  over  either. 
I  do  not,  of  course,  imply  that  he  was  con- 
scious of  all  this.  Probably,  he  felt  dimly  that 
an  accurate  diary  would  be  somehow  useful. 
Still  more  probably,  he  would  merely  have 
said  that  he  kept  it  because  "  it  do  please 
me  mightily,"  and  in  that  case  he  would  have 
shovm  himself   to  be   more   of  an   artist   than 


ever. 


Samtiel  Pepys 


37 


Meanwhile,  he -begins  the  new  year,  1660,  with- 
out answering  any  of  these  questions : 

"  Blessed  be  God,  at  the  end  of  the  last  year 
I  was  in  very  good  health,  without  any  sense  of 
my  old  pain,  but  upon  taking  of  cold.  I  lived 
in  Axe  Yard,  having  my  wife,  and  servant  Jane, 
and  no  more  in  family  than  us  three." 

So  the  curtain  goes  up,  and  the  household  in 
Axe  Yard  become  suddenly  immortal.  There 
follows  a  short  description  of  the  state  of  public 
afiairs.  Then  Pepys  puts  on  his  "  suit  with  great 
skirts,  having  not  lately  worn  any  other  clothes 
but  them,"  and  plunges  into  the  exquisite  thrills 
and  sensations  of  life. 

There  were,  indeed,  plenty  of  sensations  just 
then,  for  the  most  untiring  of  observers.  It 
was  an  unsettled  moment  for  every  one,  the 
interval  between  the  death  of  Oliver  Cromwell 
and  the  Restoration.  Militarism  had  had  its  day 
for  the  first  and  last  time  among  an  essentially 
civiUan  nation.  While  the  divided  generals 
made  and  destroyed  their  ephemeral  constitutions, 


38 


Samuel  Pepys 


public  opinion  was  steadily  setting  towards  the 
only  possible^^escape  from  permanent  disorder. 
"  Everybody,"  says  Pepys,  "  now  drinks  the 
King's  health  without  any  fear,  whereas  before, 
it  was  very  private  that  a  man  dare  do  it."  ^ 
The  reaction  was  fully  established,  and  Pepys 
himself  was  easily  carried  in  the  stream.  The 
"great  Roundhead,"  as  he  had  hitherto  been, 
slipped  without  embarrassment  into  enthusiastic 
loyalty  to  the  Stuarts.  By  March  of  this  year, 
1660,  Pepys  was  all  ready  for  the  next  service 
which  his  patron  Montagu  required  of  him.  A 
few  weeb  before  Downing  had  told  him,  with  an 
air  of  conferring  a  kindness,  that  he  had  got  him 
appointed  one  of  the  Clerks  of  the  Council,  the 
explanation  of  the  kindness  being,  so  Pepys  be- 
lieved, that  Downing  wished  to  avoid  paying  his 
sakry  out  of  his  own  pocket,  as  he  was  then  doing. 
But  Pepys  was  now  given  a  chance  which  made 
it  unnecessary  for  him  to  trouble  further  about 
Downing  and  his  office.     Montagu,  reappointed 

1  March  6,  1660 


Samuel  Pepys 


39 


in  February  joint   general  (with  Monk)  of   the 
fleet,  had  need  of  a  confidential  secretary.    He 
was  now  in  constant  correspondence  with  the 
King,  and  the  time  for  action  seemed  to  be  ap- 
proaching at  last.     He  invited  Pepys  to  go  to  sea 
with  him,  and  to  take  a  hand  in  the  great  work. 
Pepys  at  once  set  about  his  preparations  in  high 
excitement    at    the    prospect.    His    enthusiasm 
for  the  King,  his  desire  to  see  life,  and  his  gratifi- 
cation at  Montagu's  confidence  in  him,  all  con- 
tributed to  the  ardour  with  which  he  accepted 
the  proposal.    When  he  found  what  convenient 
and  recognized  opportunities  he  would  have  for 
maHng  money,  as  for  example,  by  appointing 
fictitious  servants,  and  paying  their  salaries  to 
himself,  the  cup  was  indeed  full.     He  dispatched 
his  wife  to  stay  with  friends  in  the  country,  and 
on  March  23  went  on  board  the  %wx\tsure  at 
Gravesend,  moving  a  few  days  later  to  the  Iffaseh^, 
the  ship  on  which  he  had  sailed  to  the  Sound  the 

year  before.  ^ 

^  Pepys  enjoyed  to  the  full  the  crowded  weeks 


40 


Samuel  Pepys 


that  followed.  His  secretarial  duties  kept  him 
busy,  but  not  so  busy  that  he  could  not  have  his 
share  of  conviviality,  while  the  fleet  lay  off  the 
Kentish  coast  during  April.  There  was  a  delirious 
scene  one  night  in  the  "  Lieutenant's  cabin," 
where,  says  Pepys,  "  I  and  W.  Howe  were  very 
merry,  and  among  other  frolics  he  pulls  out  the 
spigot  of  the  little  vessel  of  ale  that  was  there  in 
the  cabin,  and  drew  some  into  his  mounteere,^ 
and  after  he  had  drank,  I  endeavouring  to  dash 
it  in  his  face,  he  got  my  velvet  studying  cap  and 
drew  some  into  mine  too,  that  we  made  ourselves 
a  great  deal  of  mirth,  but  spoiled  my  clothes  with 
the  ale  which  we  dashed  up  and  down."  ^  This 
was  pleasant ;  but  the  scene  that  followed  three 
days  later  was  no  less  enjoyable  in  its  way.  On 
May  3,  Montagu  called  a  council  of  war,  and  the 
secretary,  with  pride  in  his  heart,  read  aloud  to 
the  assembled  commanders  a  declaration  from 
the  King,  dated  from  Breda,  containing  an  "  offer 

*  A  kind  of  cap  (the  Spanish  montero). 
*  April  30,  1660. 


Samuel  Pepys 


41 


of   grace  to  all  that  will   come  in  within  forty 
days."     The    commanders    voted    unanimously 
for  Charles,  as  Montagu  had  counted  upon  their 
doing.     The  whole  company  then  went  up  to 
the  quarter-deck,  and  Pepys  read  both  the  King's 
declaration  and  the  officers'   resolution  to  the 
assembled  crew,  who  received  them  with  cries 
of  "  God  bless  King  Charles !  "    He  was  at  once 
sent  to  do  the  same  on  all  the  ships  of  the  fleet, 
and  found  a  like  enthusiasm  wherever  he  went. 
The  next  morning  he  took  care  to  sign  his  name 
to  all  the  copies  of  the  council's  vote,  that  it  might 
appear  there  if  any  of  them  found  their  way  into 
print.     These  were  great  times. 

A  week  later  orders  were  received  from  Parlia- 
ment that  the  fleet  should  proceed  to  HoUand 
without  more  delay  to  bring  back  the  King. 
On  the  14th,  Pepys  went  on  shore  at  the  Hague, 
to  use  his  expressive  figure,  "  with  child  to  see 
any  strange  thing."  He  went  sight-seeing  assi- 
duously, in  a  "  heaven  of  pleasure,"  and  the  best 
sight  of  aU  was  when  he  managed  to  get  admitted, 


42 


Samuel  Pepys 


with  Montagu's  son,  to  kiss  the  King's  hand. 
The  King  seemed,  he  perspicuously  remarks,  "  a 
very  sober  man."  That  is  all  he  has  to  say  of 
him  at  first,  but  a  few  days  later  he  marks  his 
enthusiasm  by  taking  a  personal  share  in  a  salute 
fired  by  the  guns  of  the  whole  fleet.  "  The  gun 
over  against  my  cabin,"  he  says,  "  I  fired  myself 
to  the  King,  which  was  the  first  time  that  he  had 
been  saluted  by  his  own  ships  since  this  change  ; 
but  holding  my  head  too  much  over  the  gun,  I 
had  almost  spoiled  my  right  eye."  ^  He  also 
made  the  acquaintance  of  the  Duke  of  York,  whom 
he  was  afterwards  to  serve  so  long  and  so  well. 

The  next  day.  May  23,  the  King  and  all  the 
Royal  Family,  with  their  whole  suite,  an  "  infi- 
nity of  people,"  came  on  board.  Pepys,  his  right 
eye  still  "  very  red  and  ill,"  spent  the  day  in  one 
prolonged  ecstasy  of  excitement.  He  saw  the 
Royal  party  at  dinner  by  themselves,  "  which 
was  a  blessed  sight  to  see."  He  assisted  while 
the   King  and  the  Duke  of  York  re-christened 

1  May  22,  1660. 


Samuel  Pepys 


43 


the  ships,  substituting  names  of  good  omen  for 
the  discredited  old  republican  names  they  had 
borne,  "  Charles  "  for  "  Naseby,"  "  Mary  "  for 
the  "  Speaker,"  "  Happy  Return  "  for  "  Winsley," 
and  so  forth.     He  observed,  to  his  surprise,  that 
the  King  was  "  very  active  and  stirring."     He 
listened  while  Charles  told  the  story  of  his  escape 
from  Worcester,  the  same  story  which  he  himself 
was  to  write  down  twenty  years  later  from  the 
King's  dictation  :    this  time  he  was  "  ready  to 
weep  "  at  the  tale  of  the  royal  sufferings.     Mean- 
while  the   fleet   with  its   precious   burden   had 
weighed  anchor,  and  "  most  glorious  weather  " 
ushered  the  KLing  back  to  his  own. 

The  following  day  was  given  up  to  mirth  and 
brave  discourse,  and  land  was  sighted  before 
nightfall.  The  next  morning.  May  25,  the  sun 
rose  upon  the  great  and  longed-for  day  which 
saw  the  king  once  more  upon  English  soil.  Some 
"  ship's  diet  "  was  exhibited  at  his  breakfast,  just 
to  show  him  how  his  sailors  fared,  and  behold,  the 
King  was  a  sound  Englishman,  and  would  make 


44 


Samuel  PePys 


his  meal  of  nothing  else  but  pease  and  pork  and 
boiled  beef.  The  King  was  generous,  too,  and 
gave  ;{^SOo  to  be  distributed  among  the  ship's 
company,  of  which  Pepys  got  ^^30.  The  Duke 
of  York  was  friendly :  he  promised  Pepys  his 
future  favour,  and  called  him  "  Pepys  by  name."^ 
About  noon  the  King  and  the  Duke  were  rowed 
ashore  to  Dover  in  Montagu's  barge.  Pepys 
and  one  or  two  of  the  King's  attendants  went  at 
the  same  time  in  another  boat,  carrying  with 
them  a  dog  "  which  the  King  loved."  On  the 
way  the  dog  gave  occasion  to  some  simple  and 
not  over-refined  mirth,  which  made  Pepys  reflect 
that  "  a  King  and  all  that  belong  to  him  are  but 
just  as  others  are."  They  got  on  shore  as  soon 
as  the  King  did,  and  saw  him  received  by  General 
Monk  and  acclaimed  with  shouting  and  joy. 
The  Mayor  of  Dover  came  forward  and  "  pre- 
sented him  from  the  town  a  very  rich  Bible,  which 
he  took  and  said  it  was  the  thing  that  he  loved 
above  aU  things  in  the  world,"  so  it  appeared  the 
King  was  a  good  Protestant  too.    Then  he  stepped 


Samuel  Pepys 


45 


into  a  stately  coach  and  roUed  away  through  the 
town    towards    Canterbury.    The    great    event 
had  passed  off  in  complete  success,  "  without  any 
the  least  blur  or  obstruction  in  the  world,  that 
could  give  an  offence  to  any."    Montagu  was 
transported  with  joy ;   and  his  faithful  secretary 
proceeded  to  describe  the  day  in  a  page  that  for 
unconscious   irony  will   not    easily  be  matched. 
Charles  himself  would  have  appreciated  it,  though 
he  might  have  found  in  its  innocent  loquacity  a 
sharper  sting  than  he  would  find  in  all  the  formal 
and   reasoned   condemnations   that   have   been 
passed  upon  him  since  it  was  written. 

Pepys  meanwhile,  as  innocent  of  all  ironical 
intention  as  the  Mayor  of  Dover  himself,  remained 
a  few  days  longer  on  board    with    Montagu, 
setting  his  public  and  private  accounts  in  order. 
He  found  he  was  worth  iiioo,  a  great  advance  upon 
his  estate  two  months  before,  and  he  took  occasion 
to  thank  Us  patron  for  what  he  had  done  for 
him.      Montagu    had    borne   a   leading   but   a 
very  discreet  part  in  the  Restoration,  and  had 


I  il 


46 


Samuel  Pepys 


Samuel  Pepys 


47 


been  careful  not  to  appear  too  obtrusive,  especi- 
ally to  his  co-general  Monk.  "  We  must  have  a 
little  patience,"  he  told  Pepys,  "  and  we  will  rise 
together  ;  in  the  meantime  I  will  do  you  all  the 
good  jobs  I  can."  ^ 

He  was  as  good  as  his  word.  A  few  days  later, 
after  they  had  returned  to  London,  Pepys  learned 
to  his  satisfaction  that  Montagu  had  obtained 
for  him  a  promise  of  appointment  as  "  Clerk  of 
the  Acts  of  the  Navy." 

The  office  was  an  important  and  valuable  one, 
and  Pepys  held  it  with  credit  for  many  years. 
It  had  existed  at  least  as  far  back  as  the  reign  of 
Edward  IV,  when  the  Clerk  of  the  King's  ships 
(as  he  was  then  known)  was  the  only  civil  officer 
specifically  in  charge  of  naval  matters.  Henry 
VIII,  to  meet  the  needs  of  his  growing  force,  had 
constituted  a  "  Navy  Board,"  on  which  the  Clerk 
of  the  Acts  sat  in  company  with  six  or  seven 
other  officers.  After  the  Restoration  the  Board 
consisted  of  a  Treasurer,  a  Comptroller,  a  Sur- 

June  2,  i66o. 


veyor,  and  four  Commissioners,  as  weU  as  the  Clerk, 
who  held  equal  rank  with  the  rest,  besides  acting 
as  secretary.      Pepys'  salary  was  fixed  at  £350. 
the  salaries  of   the  other  officers  ranging  from 
ijiioxv  4^.,  which  was  that  of  the  Treasurer,to 
X500,  wHch  was  that  of  the  Comptroller.  In  some 
manuscript  «  Instructions "  of  about  1649,  now 
in  the  Pepysian  Library,  the  duties  of  the  Clerk  are 
thus  defined  :   "  The  clarke  of  the  Navye's  duty 
depends  principally  upon  rateing  (by  the  Board's 
approbation)  of  all  bills  and  recording  of  them, 
and  all  orders,  contracts  and  warrants,  making 
up  and  .casting  of  accompts,  framing  and  writing 
answers  to  letters,  orders,  and  commands  from 
the  CounceU,  Lord  High  Admirall,  or  Commis- 
sioners of  the  Admiralty,  and  he  ought  to  be  a 
very  able  accomptant,  weU  versed  in  NavaU  affairs 
and  all  inferior  officers'  duties." 

Pepys  obtained  his  patent  for  the  office  on  July 
13,  but  for  a  time  it  seemed  doubtful  whether  the 
pllce  was  securely  his.  The  Clerbhip  of  the 
Acts  had  been  aboUshed  during  the  Common- 


48 


Samuel  Pepys 


Samuel  PePys 


49 


wealth,  but  it  presently  appeared  that  the  man 
who  had  held  it  in  the  reign  of  Charles  I  was  still 
alive  and  considered  himself  to  have  the  first  claim. 
His  name  was  Thomas  Barlow,  "  an  old  consump- 
tive man,  and  fair  conditioned,"  says  Pepys,  who 
finally  judged  it  prudent  to  buy  off  his  claim  by 
giving  him  ^^loo  a  year  out  of  his  salary.^  This 
he  did  until  February,  1665,  when  Barlow  died, 
"  for  which,"  writes  his  successor,  with  at  least 
as  much  feeling  as  could  be  expected,  "  God 
knows  my  heart,  I  could  be  as  sorry  as  is  possible  for 
one  to  be  for  a  stranger,  by  whose  death  he  gets 
;^ioo  per  annum,  he  being  a  worthy  honest  man."« 
These  uncertainties  made  it  tempting  to  accept 
the  handsome  offers,  one  of  ^£500,  another  of 
jf  1,000,  which  were  made  him  for  his  post ; 
but  he  wisely  clung  to  it,  and  before  long  was 
safely  installed.  At  the  worst  Pepys  had  more 
than  one  string  to  his  bow  just  now,  for  Montagu 
also  obtained  for  him  a  Clerkship  of  the  Privy 
Seal.     Neither  of  them  expected  much  of  this  at 

*  July  17,  i66o.  «  February  9,  1665. 


the  time,  but  less  than  a  month  later  Pepys  found 
that  he  was  making  about  ^^3  a  day  out  of  it — 
though  this  rate  cannot  have  been  maintained 
for  long — besides  his  salary  from  the  Navy  Office.^ 
He  had  before  this  severed  his  connexion  with 
Downing's  office,  and  never  wanted  to  see  the 
"  stingy  fellow  "  again.*  Yet  another  dignity 
came  his  way  on  September  24  of  the  same  year, 
when  he  was  sworn  in  as  a  justice  of  the  peace, 
"  with  which  honour  I  did  find  myself  mightily 
pleased,  though  I  am  wholly  ignorant  in  the  duty." 
If  it  came  to  that  he  was  certainly  not  less  ignorant 
of  his  other  duties.  He  was  neither  the  "  able 
accomptant "  nor  the  man  "  well-versed  in 
Navall  affairs "  which  the  Clerk  of  the  Acts  was 
expected  to  be ;  but  what  with  his  passion  for 
mastering  the  smallest  details  of  his  work  and  his 
desire  to  fortify  his  position  in  the  world,  he  was 
not  long  in  making  himself  one  of  the  most 
efficient  members  of  the  Board. 

Meanwhile   the   household   of   three   in   Axe 


1  August  10,  1660. 


*  June  28,  1660. 

4 


50 


Samuel  Pepys 


Yard  had  been  broken  up,  for  among  the  rest  of 
his  privileges  Pepys  was  now  entitled  to  a  residence 
in  the  Navy  Office,  then  (and  later,  until  its 
removal  to  Somerset  House)  situated  close  to 
Tower  Hill,  between  Crutched  Friars  and  Seething 
Lane.  On  July  4  he  went  to  view  the  accommo- 
dation which  it  offered,  and  found  the  worst  very 
good.  A  fortnight  later  he  moved  in  with  his 
wife,  and  as  soon  as  possible  got  rid  of  the  house 
in  Axe  Yard.  His  new  house  fronted  upon  Seeth- 
ing Lane.  Pepys,  who  loved  to  have  everything 
handsome  about  him,  found  a  perpetual  delight 
in  its  gradual  decoration  and  arrangement,  as  well 
as  a  recurring  source  of  annoyance  in  his  wife's 
untidiness  and  the  carelessness  of  his  servants. 

Thus  in  the  first  years  after  the  Restoration, 
while  his  country  was  being  re-made  round  him, 
politically,  socially,  and  ecclesiastically,  Pepys 
began  to  make  his  way  to  the  front,  by  virtue 
of  his  conscientious  diligence  and  also  of  his  very 
clear  idea  of  what  he  desired.  He  was  troubled 
with  no  wishes  that  were  not  precise  and  defined, 


Samuel  Pepys 


51 


no  vague  impulses  towards  intangible  things,  no 
impracticable  ambitions  for  which  life  was  too 
small. 

The  common  round  of  Pepys'  existence  was  in 
one  respect  very  unlike  the  modern  working  day. 
There  seem  to  have  been  no  fixed  hours  for 
anything  except  the  midday  dinner.  It  would 
be  curious  to  know  exactly  what  difference  be- 
tween ourselves  and  our  forefathers  is  implied  by 
the  fact  that  they  were  so  much  more  able  than 
we  are  to  take  the  day  and  its  hours  as  they  came, 
without  planning  them  out  beforehand.  No 
doubt  the  change  is  partly  due  to  the  greater 
elaboration  of  life,  so  that  we  have  to  pack  more 
into  the  day  than  will  go  into  it  unless  we  pack 
neatly  and  with  forethought.  Perhaps  something 
is  due  to  the  fact  that  we  are  not  so  dependent 
as  of  old  upon  daylight  or  even  upon  fine 
weather  :  we  make  our  own  daylight  more  effec- 
tively than  did  Pepys  and  his  friends,  and  if  we 
do  not  make  our  own  weather  we  are  at  least 
more  ingenious  in  circumventing  it.     But  either 


52 


Samuel  Pepys 


as  cause  or  effect  there  must  also  be  a  difference 
in  habit  of  mind,  some  love  of  familiar  ways 
and  settled  engagements  in  place  of  the  old 
adventurous  spirit  that  could  face  a  life  with 
nothing  fixed  in  it  but  the  hour  for  dinner. 

Pepys,  with  all  his  love  of  precision  and  method, 
arranged  no  two  days  alike.     Sometimes  he  was 
up  and  at  work  in  his  office  by  four  o'clock  in 
the  morning ;  sometimes  he  lay  in  bed  late  into 
the  day.     Sometimes  his  work  was  compressed 
into  a  few  early  hours ;  sometimes  it  kept  him  up 
late  at  night.  On  the  whole,  the  working  day  seems 
to  have  begun  and  ended  earlier  than  it  does  now, 
which  again  might  be  explained  either  as  the  cause 
or  the  effect  of  the  concentration  of  all  meals 
into  one.    Wherever  in  the  day  the  principal 
meal  is  placed,  there  are  the  best  reasons  for 
supposing  that  more  work  will  be  done  before 
it  than  afterwards.    Pepys'  dinner  at  noon  was 
not  merely  his  principal  but  almost  his  only  meal. 
For  breakfast  he  had  a  "  morning  draught  "  at  a 
tavern,  and  in  the  evening  nothing  but  a  supper 


> 


Smmiel  Pepys 


53 


so  slight  that  he  seldom  finds  it  worth  mentioning. 
But  dinner  was  a  very  different  matter,  and  on  all 
special  occasions  a  careful  account  is  given  of  it. 
Who  will  deny  that  there  is  something  seductive 
as  well  as  heroic,  a  glamour,  a  gush  of  imagination, 
about  such  an  entry  as  this,  describing  one  of  his 
yearly  parties  in  memory  of    the  day  when  he 
had  been  "  cut  for  the  stone  "  ?    "  Very'merry  at, 
before,  and  after  dinner,  and  the  more  for  that 
my  dinner  was  great,  and  most  neatly  dressed  by 
our  own  only  maid.    We  had  a  fricassee  of  rabbits 
and  chickens,  a  leg  of  mutton  boiled,  three  carps 
in  a  dish,  a  great  dish  of  a  side  of  lamb,  a  dish  of 
roasted  pigeons,  a  dish  of  four  lobsters,  three 
tarts,  a  lamprey  pie  (a  most  rare  pie),  a  dish  of 
anchovies,  good  wine  of  several  sorts,  and  all 
things  mighty  noble  and  to  my  great  content."  ^ 
Nine  people  sat  down  to  this  admirable  meal. 
How  thin  and  exhausted  they  would  think  the 
fancy  that  would  stop  short  at  a    poor  plateful 
of  soup,  the  wing  of  an  inconsiderable  partridge, 

1  April  4,  1663. 


54 


Samuel  Pepys 


if  they  were   entertained  by  a   modest  young 
married  .couple  of  to-day. 

These  differences  of  times  and  dishes  are  not 
trivial.     Nothing  is  that,  no  detail  is  too  homely, 
which  in  any  way  helps  to   catch  the  savour  of 
Pepys'  days ;  and  I  do  not  believe  it  is  fantastic 
to  say  that  this  barbaric  profusion,  these  off-hand 
methods  of  dividing  the  day,  do  really  stand  for 
something  that  has  been  softened  down  almost 
out  of  existence  in  our  own  time.     No  doubt  it 
has  been  made  up  for  in  other  ways  by  the  hundred 
opportunities  of  adventure  open  to  us  which  were 
not  open  to  Pepys.     But  the  process  of  allaying 
the  discomforts,  and  of  refining  to  some  extent 
the  pleasures,  of  the  ordinary  day,  must  in  the 
long  run  mean  a  loss  as  well  as  a  gain.     We  have 
other  things  which  we  presumably  like  better, 
but  in  this  one  matter,  in  the  colour  and  vibration 
of  the  ordinary  familiar  atmosphere,  it  looks  as 
though  something  has  escaped  us.    We  have  to 
go    further    afield   for    excitements.    If    Pepys 
found  perpetual  excitement  (not  merely  pleasure) 


Samuel  Pepys 


55 


in  his  house  and  home,  it  was  not  solely  because  he 
was  Pepys,  but  partly  because  of  the  seventeenth 
century  air  which  he  breathed.     Some  quaUfi- 
cation  of  this  kind  must  be  made,  or  we  run  the 
risk  of  treating  him  too  much  as  an  absurd  child. 
He  was  not  that,  he  was  a  respected  man,  be- 
ginning at  this  time  to  be  treated  as  an  equal  by 
some   of   the  most  distinguished  people  of   his 
day.    This  has  to  be  remembered,  though  truly  it 
5s  not  always  easy,  in  putting  together  from  his 
descriptions  some  picture  of  his  domestic  life. 

I  have  already  spoken  of  one  constant  trial 
of  his  patience,  his  wife's  untidy  habits.     Here 
is  a  typical  incident :    "  After  that  I  went  by 
water  home,  where  I  was  angry  with  my  wife  for 
her  things  lying  about,  and  in  my  passion  kicked 
the   little   fine  basket   which  I  bought   her   in 
Holland,  and  broke  it,  which  troubled  me  after 
I  had  done  it."  ^     And  again,  a  few  days  later  : 
"  I  took  occasion  to  be  angry  with  my  wife 
before  I  rose  about  her  putting  up  half-a-crown 

1  October  13,  1660. 


56 


Samuel  Pepys 


Samuel  Pe^ys 


57 


of  mine  in  a  paper  box,  which  she  had  forgot 
where  she  had  lain  it.     But  we  were  friends 
again,  as  we  are  always."  ^    Her  dress,  too,  was 
often  a  matter  of  dispute.     She  had  the    fatal 
tendency  of  untidy  people  towards  an  injudicious 
use  of  finery,  a  sore  offence  to  her  husband's 
discriminating  eye,  who  again  "  took  occasion  to 
fall  out  with  my  wife  very  highly  about  her  rib- 
bands  being   ill-matched   and   of   two   colours, 
and  to  very  high  words  "—grossly  high,  indeed— 
"  for  which,"  he  adds,  "  I  was  afterwards  sorry."  « 
On  the  whole  Mrs.  Pepys  seems  to  have  shown 
more  forbearance  in  these  matters  than  he  did, 
but  the  poor  lady  never  succeeded  in  reaching 
her  husband's  standard  of  what  was  fitting,  for 
years  later  we  find  her  putting  on  half-mourning 
too  soon  after  some  one's  death,  and  appearing  in 
a  "  black  moyre  waistcoat,  and  short  petticoat, 
laced  with  silver  lace  so  basely  that  I  could  not 
endure  to  see  her."  ^    What  is  surprising  is  that 

1  October  24,  1660.  ^  December  19,  1661. 

3  March  29,  1667. 


these  constant  frictions,  which  did  not  always 
stop  short  at  mere  words,  had  no  more  last- 
ing effects  after  they  had  been  repeated  a  hun- 
dred times  than  they  had  in  their  early  married 
days.     It  is  a  high  tribute  to  the  affection  of 
Pepys  and  his  wife  to  say  that  it  was  strong  enough 
to  resist  this  perpetual  wear  and  tear  in  small 
things,  the  more  so  because  it  was  not  helped  out 
by  much  community  of  tastes  or  interests.    It  was  a 
real  survival  of  their  boy-and-girl  love  which  stood 
the  strain,  and  which  managed  to  stand  it  alone. 
Pepys  suffered  from  an  exaggerated  idea  that 
it  was  his  right  and  his  duty  to  be  master  in  his 
house.    He  meant  to  have  no  insubordination 
either   from  his   wife   or   his   servants.     It   was 
part  of  his  ideal  of  orderliness  that  not  only  should 
his  house  be  neat  and  clean,  and  his  servants 
attentive,  but  that  his  wife  should  remain  at  her 
post  and  not  be  allowed  much  freedom.     To 
this  two  other  considerations  also  contributed, 
one  his  horror  of  extravagance,  the  other  his  lively 
jealousy,   so    that  on  the    whole    Mrs.    Pepys' 


58 


Samuel  Pepys 


\ 


i; 


3, 


chances  of  amusement  were  not  many.  Dunng 
her  husband's  absences  from  home  she  was  usually 
sent  off  to  stay  with  his  relations  in  the  country, 
where  she  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  quarrel  with 
them.  Otherwise,  if  his  supervision  was  removed 
for  any  length  of  time,  he  would  find  cause  to 
reflect  sadly  "on  my  wife's  neglect  of  things, 
and  impertinent  humour  got  by  this  liberty  of 
being  from  me,  which  she  is  never  to  be  trusted 
with ;  for  she  is  a  fool."  ^ 

It  cannot  be  denied  that  Pepys'  meanness  in 
regard  to  money  grew  upon  him  with  his  growmg 
fortunes  during  the  ten  years  covered  by  the 
Diary.    He  loved  to  note  the  steady  increase  of 
his  balance  when  he  made  up  his  accounts  month 
by  month,  and  for  years  the  amount  is  regularly 
recorded    in    the  Diary.    His    opportunities    of 
making  money  over  and  above  his  official  salary 
were  so  numerous  that  during  the  first  five  years 
of  his  work  in  the  Navy  Office  he  managed  to 
put  by  about  ^^200  a  year,  more  or  less ;  so  that 

1  June  17,  1668 


Samuel  Pepys 


59 


whereas  on  December  31,  1660,  he  found  himself 
worth   about  i;300,  by  February    28,  1665,  his 
savings  had  reached  to  i;i,270.     After  that  they 
increased  by  leaps  and  bounds,  what  with  prizes 
during  the  Dutch  war  and  fees  in  connexion  with 
the  Victualling  Office,  and  by  the  end  of  1666 
he  had  accumulated  ^6,200.     Much  as  he  en- 
joyed cutting  a  figure  in  the  world,  he  equally 
enjoyed  laying  up  the  money  for  which  he  worked 
so   industriously,   and   he  was   horrified   at   the 
thought  that  a   penny  of  it  should  be  wasted. 
His  wife  was  deliberately  kept  short  of  money, 
and  not  allowed  to  know  too  much  about  the 
prosperous   state   of   his    affairs.     One    day   Sir 
W.  Warren,  a  merchant  who  was  under  various 
obligations  to  Pepys  for  navy  contracts,  gave  him 
a  pair  of  gloves  for  his  wife,  wrapped  up  in  a 
paper  parcel.     This,  says  Pepys,  "  I  would  not 

open,  feeling  it  hard When  I  came  home. 

Lord  !  in  what  pain  I  was  to  get  my  wife  out  of 
the  room  without  bidding  her  go,  that  I  might  see 
what  these  gloves  were;  and,  by  and  by,  she 


6o 


Samuel  Pepys 


Samuel  Pepys 


6i 


being  gone,  it  proves  a  payre  of  white  gloves  for 
her  and  forty  pieces  in  good  gold,  w^hich  did  so 
cheer  my  heart,  that  I  could  eat  no  victuals 
almost  for  dinner  for  joy  to  think  how  God  do 
bless  us  every  day  more  and  more.  ...  I  was 
at  great  losse  what  to  do  whether  to  tell  my 
wife  of  it  or  no,  which  I  could  hardly  forbear, 
but  yet  I  did  and  will  think  of  it  first  before  I 
do,  for  fear  of  making  her  think  me  to  be  in  a 
better  condition,  or  in  a  better  way  of  getting 
money,  than  yet  I  am."  ^  He  had  no  confidence, 
doubtless  with  reason,  in  Mrs.  Pepys'  powers  of 
management,  and  kept  all  such  matters  carefully 
in  his  own  hands.  His  occasional  twinges  of 
compunction  were  allayed  by  the  thought  that 
it  was  a  duty  to  keep  her  modest  and  sober  in  her 
ways.  Moreover,  he  also  had  his  moments 
of  generosity,  and  when  one  day  she  proudly 
exhibited  to  him  her  stock  of  jewels,  mostly  pres- 
ents from  himself,  to  the  value,  they  reckoned, 
of  £150  in  all,  he  was  glad  she  should  have  them, 

^  February  2,  1664, 


"  for  it  is  fit,"  he  adds  pleasantly,  "  the  wretch 
should  have  something  to  content  herself  with."  ^ 
Pepys  is  in  nothing  more  incredibly  ingenuous, 
much  as  it  is  to  say  that,  than  in  the  revelations 
of  his  jealousy  as  a  husband.    Mrs.  Pepys,  so 
pretty  and  so  unbusiness-like,  was,  as  a  matter 
of  fact,  surprisingly  discreet  in  her  behaviour. 
Her    husband's    frequent    uneasiness    was   per- 
fectly groundless,  and  this,  in  his  heart  of  hearts, 
he  knew  quite  well.    With  him,  as  with  others, 
jealousy  was  not  a  thing  that  could  be  argued 
away  by  reason.    He  could  only  say,  with  real 
pathos,  "  This  is  my  devilish  jealousy,  which  I 
pray  God  may  be  false,  but  it  makes  a  very  hell 
in  my  mind,  which  the  God  of  heaven  remove, 
or  I  shall  be  very  unhappy."  »     His  particular 
ingenuousness  does  not  lie  in  this  sort  of  inconsis- 
tency, which  indeed  he  shares  with  the  rest  of 
mankind.     It  is  in  his  unfailing  power  of  placing 
his  suspicions  of  his  wife  side  by  side  with  his 
own  more  or  less  serious  infidelities  to  her,  without 

1  February  23,  1668.  «  May  26,  1663. 


62 


Samuel  Pepys 


drawing  any  kind  of  comparison  between  them. 
He  could  be  an  injured  husband  one  moment, 
and  a  furtive  man  of  pleasure  the  next,  with  no 
sense  of  incongruity  whatever.  In  this  as  in 
other  matters,  each  moment  was  securely  separated 
from  the  next,  each  successive  emotion  could  be 
tasted  absolutely  without  reference  to  the  rest. 
His  most  prolonged  attack  of  jealousy  was  occa- 
sioned by  a  course  of  dancing  lessons  which  in  a 
luckless  hour  he  allowed  his  wife  to  take  from 
a  man  called  Pembleton.  The  sentence  I  have 
quoted  above  occurs  during  this  episode,  and  it  is 
one  of  many  equally  touching  outbursts.  It  seems 
quite  clear  that  nothing  could  have  been  more 
unjust  to  Mrs.  Pepys,  who  did  all  she  could  to 
reassure  him,  and  finally  refused  to  admit  the  danc- 
ing-master unless  Pepys  himself  could  be  present. 
Pepys  did  indeed  try  to  be  reasonable,  and  went  so 
far  as  to  vow  to  himself  that  he  would  not  give 
way  to  high  words  on  the  subject  of  the  dancing 
lessons,  "in  pain  of  is,  6d,  for  every  time";^ 

^  May  21,  1663. 


Samuel  Pepys 


63 


but  they  were  miserable  days,  and  the  sight  of 
Pembleton,    even    after    the    course    was    over, 
remained  for  some  while  a  recurring  cause  of 
alarm.     None    the   less    the    memory    of   these 
troubles  and  of  others  Uke  them  never  cast  the 
smallest  shadow  over  his  own  private  adventures. 
His  only  preoccupation,  either  at  the  moment, 
or  when  he  came  to  dweU  merrily  upon  them  in 
his  Diary,  was  his  anxiety  that  they  should  remain 
private.      There  is  something  great  about  this 
whole-hearted  absorption  in  one  thing  at  a  time. 
It  is  not  every  one  who  could  describe  on  the  same 
page  how  he  went  to  church  one  Sunday  after- 
noon, contrary  to  his  intention,  in  order  to  see  a 
pretty  woman  whom  he  heard  would  be  there, 
and  how  he  suffered,  when  he  got  there,  at  the 
sight  of  the  odious  dancing-master  leering  at  his 
wife  from  the  gallery— all  without  its  even  so 
much  as  occurring  to  him  that  there  was  any 
paraUel  between  the  two  parts  of  his  description.* 
The  disastrous  dancing-lessons  were  a  warning  to 

1  May  24,  1663. 


64 


Samuel  Pepys 


Samuel  Pepys 


65 


Pepys  that  he  and  no  man  else  should  provide  his 
wife  with  entertainment.    He  accordingly  devised 
an  agreeable  plan  for  combining  occupation  with 
culture    by  giving    her    lessons  in    arithmetic. 
Mrs.    Pepys,   if   not    strong   intellectually,   was 
touchingly  docile,  and  before  long  her  husband 
notes  that  "  she  is  come  to  do  Addition,  Subtrac- 
tion, and  Multiplication  very  well."    He  adds : 
"  I  purpose  not  to  trouble  her  yet  with  Division, 
but   to  begin  with  the   Globes  to  her   now."  ^ 
He  also  at  different  times  tried  to  teach  her  to 
sing  and  play  the  flageolet.     He  was  an  exacting 
musician,  and  her  ear  was  not  good  enough  for 
her  performances  to  give  him  much  satisfaction ; 
sometimes  the  lessons  ended  in  trouble  and  tears ; 
but  here  again  her  diligence  was  such  that  on 
the  flageolet,  at  any  rate,  she  reached  a  certain 

proficiency. 

The  quarrels  and  sulks,  the  abusive  words, 
the  actual  personal  violence— Mrs.  Pepys  had  her 
nose    pulled    more    than    once,   and    once    she 

1  December  6,  1663. 


threatened  her  husband  with  a  pair  of  red-hot 
tongs— the  kicks  and  cuffs,  of  which  the  servants 
usually    had    their    share,    are   all    so    constant 
and    so    punctually    recorded,    that    the    casual 
reader  of  the  Diary  is  probably  on  the  whole  left 
with  the  impression  of  a  disordered  and  unhappy 
home.    Unsettled  according  to  modern  ideas  it 
certainly  was,  but  Pepys'  sense  of  domesticity 
was  vigorous  enough  to  flourish  there.     He  was 
at  any  rate  just  as  much  interested  in  his  home  life 
as  in  everything  else  that  came  his  way,  and 
through  all  the  many  agitations  of  his  household 
his  dwn   fireside  did  not  cease  to  be   agreeable. 
''  So  home  to  dinner  with  my  wife,"  he  writes, 
"  very  pleasant  and  pleased  with  one  another's 
company,  and  in  our  general  enjoyment  one  of 
another,  better  we  think  than  most  other  couples 
do."  ^    Their  quarrels  were  violent  but  brief,  and 
however  incompetent  his  servants  might  be,  they 
did  not  interfere  with  his  perennial  pleasure  in 
adorning  and  enriching  his  house. 

1  December  27,  1663. 

5 


66 


Samuel  Pepys 


Samuel  Pepys 


67 


I 


The  staff  grew  gradually  in  numbers.    He  had 
three  or  four  maids,  a  boy,  and  at  different  times 
a    "companion"    for   his   wife.     Perhaps   Mrs. 
Pepys  did  not  manage  them  particularly  well ; 
among  them  they  certainly  gave  from  first  to  last 
a  good  deal  of  trouble  ;  the  incapable  maddened 
their  master  with  their  sluttishness,  the  capable 
were  apt  to  become  overbearing,  the  good-looking 
only  too  fatally  troubled  the  domestic  harmony. 
Some,  on  the  other  hand,  were  entirely  satisfactory, 
and  Pepys  knew  well  what  gratitude  is  due  to  a 
good  servant.     Before  even  an  agreeable  personal 
appearance  he  preferred  that  they  should  show 
some  musical  talent,  for  Pepys  had  to  the  full 
the  admirable  passion  of  his  day  for  part-singing 
and  concerted  playing.    The  "  companion  "  for 
his  wife  was  an  extravagance  which  he  could  only 
admit  if  this  qualification  was  offered.     One  of 
them,  by  name  Gosnell,  who  made  a  very  brief 
appearance  in  the  household  in   1662,  was  so 
proficient  that  she  soon  afterwards  took  to  the 
stage.     Another,    Mary    Ashwell,    was    equally 


:  \ 


accomplished  ;  she  could  play  the  harpsicon  and 
the  triangle,  and  had  what  Pepys  cafls  "very 
good  principles  of  [musique."  ^    She  could   also 
dance,  taught  her  master  and  mistress  to  play 
cards,  and  was  altogether  a   "  very  witty  girl." 
But  her  master  paid  her  too  much  attention,  and 
her  mistress  too  little,  and  she,  too,  disappeared 
before  long.     A  less  agitating  presence  was  that 
of  Tom  Edwards,  for  several  years  Pepys'  excellent 
boy,  until  he  suddenly  became  a  man,  and  with  his 
master's   approval   married   one   of   the   maids. 
This  boy  had  been  a  chorister  in  the  Chapel  Royal, 
and  was  a  favourite  in  the  household  both  on  ac- 
count  of  his  singing  and  lute-playing,  as  also  for  his 
«  innocently  clownish  "  behaviour.^    Satisfactory 
or  the  reverse,  the  servants  shared  to  the  full 
in  the  general  Ufe  of  the  home ;   they  had  not 
learned,  two  hundred  years  ago,  to  construct  a 
jealously  guarded  life  of  their  own ;   they  were 
human  all  the  day,  not  only  in  each  other's  society. 

1  AprU  3,  1663.     By  "  triangle  "  is  probably  meant  a  tri- 
angular spinet.  *  September  2,  1664. 


68 


Samuel  Pepys 


Samuel  Pepys 


69 


As  for  the  house  itself,  it  was  gradually  enriched 
in  accordance  with  Pepys'  neat  but  substantial 
tastes.     The  closet  was  hung  with  purple,  the 
books  were    arranged  in  glazed  presses,  Pepys' 
own  room  was  lined  with  tapestry— Alderman 
Crow's  "  second>uit  of  Apostles,"  price  £83  for 
the  set.     Presents  of  plate,  complimentary  marks 
of  gratitude  which  could  not  be  called  bribes, 
poured  in  from  the  various  contractors  to  whom 
the  Clerk  of  the  Acts  had  extended  his  favour, 
so  that  by  the  end  of   1666  Pepys  found  that 
his  dinner-parties  could  be  served  entirely  upon 
silver.     Portraits  of  himself  and  his  wife  adorned 
the  walls.     They  were  painted  by  John  Hales, 
esteemed    the   rival   of    Lely,    and   both   were 
imaginative  in  treatment.     Mrs.  Pepys  was  repre- 
sented  "  like   a    St.    Katharine,"  ^    with   pearls 
in  her  hair,  a  palm  in  her  hand,  and  an  ample 
display  of  her  charms— a  fashionable  mode  of 
the    day,    out    of    compliment    to    the    Queen. 
"  Her  face  and  neck,"  writes  Pepys,  "  which  are 

1  February  15,  1666. 


' 


now  finished,  do  so  please  me  that  I  am  not  myself 
almost,  nor  was  not  all  the  night  after  in  writing 
of  my  letters,  in  consideration  of  the  fine  picture 
that  I  shall  be  master  of."  ^    As  soon  as  it  was 
finished  his  own  was  begun  :   "  I  sit  to  have  it 
full  of  shadows,  and  do  almost  break  my  neck  look- 
ing over  my  shoulder  to  make  the  posture  for  him 
to  work  by."  «    This  is  the  celebrated  picture  now 
in  the  National  Portrait  Gallery,  in  which  we  may 
still   see   Pepys   looking  over   his   shoulder,    his 
plump  features  full  of  importance,  his  hand  hold- 
ing the  manuscript  of  his  famous  song,  "  Beauty 
retire!"     He    is    dressed   in   what   he   describes 
as  an  "  Indian  gown,"  hired  for  the  occasion. 
A  landscape  background  was  first  inserted,  but 
this  Pepys  preferred  to  have  painted  out,  and 
"  only  a  heaven  made  in  the  roome  of  it."  '     It 
was  a    very  fine    picture,  he    declared,  though 
"  whatever  the  matter  is,  I  do  not  fancy  that  it 
has  the  ayre  of  my  face."  *    It  never  needed  much 


1  March  8,  i666. 
3  April  20,  1666. 


2  March  17,  1666. 
4  March  20,  1666. 


\ 


\ 


70 


Samuel  Pepys 


to  rouse  a  new  interest  in  Pepys,  and  fresh  from 
this  episode  he  wandered  with  a  critical  eye, 
under  Hales'  guidance,  in    the    picture-gallery 

at  Whitehall. 

Such  was  his  steady  and  rapid  increase  in  posi- 
tion and  substance  during  the  first  seven  years 
of  the  Diary,  from  the  day  when  in  his  new  official 
dignity  he  had  ordered  a  fine  Camlett  cloak 
with  gold  buttons,  and  added  feelingly,  "  I  pray 
God  to  make  me  able  to  pay  for  it,"  to  the  day 
when,  in  casting  up  his  accounts,  he  found  that  in 
the  year  i666  he  had  spent  ;£i,i54.  "which  is 
a  sum  not  fit  to  be  said  that  ever  I  should  spend 
in  one  year,"  »  though  indeed  the  year's  income 
had  been  considerably  more  than  twice  as  much. 
There  were  domestic  frictions,  official  troubles, 
anxieties    about  his   family.     For  a  time  there 
was  constant  distress  about  his  health,  though 
apparently  not  on  very  serious  grounds ;    he  was 
extremely  susceptible  to  chills— to  stand  bare- 
legged, for  example,  for  a  few  moments  while  he 

1  December  31,  l666. 


\ 


Samuel  Pepys 


71 


looked  out  a  clean  pair  of  stockings  meant  a  certain 
cold.  But  vivid  as  these  troubles  were,  the  per- 
petual flow  of  pleasures  that  ran  in  and  out  among 
them  was  far  more  so ;  and  in  a  fresh  chapter  a 
few  of  the  hundred  interests  shall  be  iUustrated 
.  which  occupied  him  outside  the  domestic  interior. 


\ 


Chapter    III 

WE  have  already  seen  that  Pepys'  sound 
capacities  were  far  from  being  shared 
by  the  rest  of  his  family.  He  was 
constantly  exasperated  by  the  state  of  muddle 
and  general  dishevelment  which  they  seemed 
fated  to  carry  with  them  wherever  they  went. 
His  father's  business  as  a  tailor  was  evidently 
upon  its  last  legs,  when  in  1661  came  the  oppor- 
tune legacy  which  released  him  from  the  losing 
struggle.  Robert  Pepys,  the  tailor's  elder  brother, 
died  in  July  of  that  year,  and  the  small  property 
which  he  left  at  Brampton,  in  Huntingdonshire, 
was  enough  to  support  a  modest  household.  A 
good  deal  of  troublesome  business  which  arose  in 
connexion  with  it  naturally  all  fell  upon  Samuel ; 
but  he  managed  to  get  his  father  settled  there 
without  loss  of  time,  and  superintended  the 
transfer  of  the  tailoring,  such  as  it  was,  to  his 


72 


Samuel  Pepys  73 

brother    Tom.    "I    have    great    fears,"    writes 
Samuel,  "  that  he  will  miscarry  for  want  of  brains 
and  care."  ^    With  timely  help  from  his  brother, 
Tom  managed  to  keep  going ;  the  clothes,  how- 
ever, which  he  delivered  at  the  Navy  Office  were 
not  always  satisfactory,  and  his  neglect  of  the 
business  comes  in  for  some  sharp  comment  in 
the    watchful    Diary.     Samuel    was    perpetually 
trying  to  arrange  a  profitable  marriage  for  him, 
but  always  without  success.    He  died  unmarried, 
though  not  childless,  in  1664,  and,  as  usual,  the 
prudent  brother  had  to  bear  all  the  trouble  of 
his  illness,  as  well  as  the  disposal  of  his  bastards. 
Pepys  certainly  makes  the  most  of  his  family's 
inroads  upon  his  time,  his  purse,  and  his  patience. 
Yet  he  bore  them  well,  and  a  little  occasional 
asperity  was  possibly  not  unwholesome  for  these 
poor    Impracticable    folk.       Moreover    he    had 
a  good  deal  of  fondness  for  them,  though  that 
sometimes  appeared  only  when  they  were  beyond 
the  reach  of  it.    At  any  rate,  when  Tom's  incon- 

1  August  31,  1661. 


74 


Samuel  Pepys 


venient  illness  finally  proved  fatal,  his  emotion 
burst  out  quite  sincerely  in  a  "  very  great  trans- 
port of  grief  and  cries '' ;  and  when  his  mother, 
whose  failing  wits  had  often  been  a  source  of 
annoyance,  died  in  1667,  with  a  last  blessing  for 
"  my  poor  Sam,"  his  relief  that  she  had  not  in 
her  helplessness  survived  his  father  and  himself 
broke  down  in  honest  and  natural  tears.^ 

Would  even  this  extremity,  one  may  well 
wonder,  have  betrayed  him  into  any  tenderness 
for  his  sister,  the  ill-starred  Paulina  ?  Her  place 
in  the  family  was  difficult  to  determine.  Nobody 
seemed  to  want  her,  apparently  she  could  be  of 
no  use  or  value  to  any  one.  Samuel  at  first 
offered  her  accommodation  in  his  household,  on 
the  strict  understanding  that  she  was  to  come  as 
a  servant  and  not  as  a  sister,  and  this  proposal 
was  joyfully  accepted.  When  she  arrived  her 
brother  rigidly  held  her  to  the  bargain,  and  re- 
fused even  to  let  her  sit  at  table  with  him.*   But 


! 


1  March  15,  1664;  March  27,  1667. 
•  November  12, 1660 ;  January  2, 1661. 


Samuel  Pepys 


75 


he  speedily  discovered  that  she  had  no  brighter 
gifts  as  a  servant  than  as  a  sister,  and  a  few  months 
later  she  found  herself  packed  off  to  her  parents 
at  Brampton  with  a  present  of  20/.  and  some 
good  advice  as  to  how  to  behave  herself  there.i 
After  this  Samuel  seldom  visits  his  father  in  the 
country  without  being  further  impressed  by  her 
lack  of  all  the  graces  of  character  or  person.    It 
is  really  affecting  to  picture  the  blankness,  the 
fretful  uselessness,  the  dreary  discomfort,  which 
Ufe  in  the  dull  little  village  must  have  meant  for 
this  poor  unwelcome  girl.    She  was  not  much 
more  than  twenty  when  she  arrived  at  Brampton, 
but  her  youth,  unsupported  as  it  was  by  any 
other  attraction,  seemed  to  her  family,  at  any 
rate,  to  offer  small  possibiUties.    None  the  less, 
Samuel,  though  he  would  not  have  her    as    a 
servant,  worked  loyally  to  find  some  one  wiUing 
to  take  her  as  a  wife,  and  promised  her  a  dowry  if 
he  was  successful.    Matters  were  becoming  des- 
perate when  six  years   later  her  hand  was  still 

1  September  5, 1661. 


76 


Samuel  Pepys 


unclaimed.    Her  father  and  her  brother  had  a 
candid  talk,  on  one  of  the  latter's  visits  to  Bramp- 
ton, "about  a  husband  for  my  sister,  whereof 
there  is  at  present  no  appearance ;   but  we  must 
endeavour  to  find  her  one  now,  for  she  grows 
old    and    ugly."  i    One    possible    match    after 
another  was  suggested,  her  dowry  was  raised,  no 
eflFort  was  spared.    At  last  a  certain  John  Jackson 
was   discovered,   and  to  the  universal  relief,   a 
dowry  of  ^£600  was  found  to  settle  the  business. 
Samuel  paid  the  money  without  a  murmur — he 
evidently  thought  it  cheap  at  the  price.    Jack- 
son, he  writes,  "  is  a  plain  young  man,  handsome 
enough  for  Pall,  one  of  no  education  nor  discourse, 
but  of  few  words,  and  one  altogether  that,  I 
think,  will  please  me  well  enough."  2    The  mar- 
riage was  promptly  concluded,—"  so  that  work 
is,  I  hope,  well  over,"  is  her  brother's  only  com- 
ment on  the  news— and  by  the  time  the  Diary 
comes  to  an  end  there  is  the  expectation  of  an 
heir,  a  piece  of  news  which  Pepys  receives  with 

1  October  10,  1667.  2  February  7,  1668. 


Samuel  Pepys 


77 


mixed  feelings.    We  hear  no  more  directly  of 
Mrs.  Jackson,  who  thus  disappears  into  the  void, 
an  unchampioned  victim  to  brotherly  candour. 
But  she  had  her  reward,  if  the  prospect  would 
have  been  any  consolation  to  her,  in  becoming 
the  only  member  of  her  family  to  perpetuate  the 
stock  of  the  unsympathetic  Diarist.     She   bore 
her  husband  two  sons,  Samuel  and  John,  the  elder 
of  whom  was  Pepys'  natural  heir.      But  Samuel 
Jackson  married  in  course  of    time  against  his 
uncle's  wishes,  and  his  brother  supplanted  him. 
John ,  Jackson,  the  younger,  inherited,  as  we  shall 
gee  later  on,  the  bulk  of  the  Diarist's  fortune, 
and  his  blood  flows  to-day  in  the  veins  of  the 
well-represented  family  of  Pepys  Cockerell.     It 
is  to  be  hoped  that  the  tribute  of  a  sympathetic 
thought  sometimes  goes  out  to  the  poor  despised 
ancestress  who  won  so  little  favour  as  a  sister  or 
a  daughter. 

Pepys'  youngest  brother,  John  by  name,  was 
rather  more  satisfactory.  When  the  Diary  opens 
in  1660  he  is  still  at  St.  Paul's  School,  but  shortly 


78 


Samuel  Pepys 


afterwards  he  is  admitted  as  a  sizar  at  Christ's 
College,  Cambridge.  While  he  was  in  residence 
there,  he  was  several  times  visited  by  his  brother, 
Cambridge  being  conveniently  taken  on  the 
way  from  London  to  Brampton.  It  must  have 
seemed  to  him  a  little  unreasonable  that  Samuel 
should  arrive,  on  one  such  occasion,  at  eight 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  be  vexed  at  finding 
him  still  in  bed ;  ^  or  again,  that  he  should  be 
displeased  with  him  for  being  "  not  so  thorough 
a  philosopher,  at  least  in  Aristotle,  as  I  took  him 
for,  he  not  being  able  to  tell  me  the  definition 
of  final,  nor  which  of  the  4  Qualities  belonged 
to  each  of  the  4  Elements."  2  But  Samuel's 
reprimands  were  delivered  in  a  strong  sense  of 
duty,  which  John  ungratefully  repaid  by  writing 
spiteful  letters  about  him  to  his  parents.  Perhaps 
it  was  natural  that  the  family  should  at  times 
rebel  under  Samuel's  bracing  attempts  to  rouse 
them  to  some  show  of  energy ;  but  the  game  of 
abuse  was  a  thing  in  which,  as  in  everything  else, 

1  July  15,  1661.  «  August  7,  1663. 


Samuel  Pepys 


79 


he  was  more  than  a  match  for  them,  and  when 
John's  underhand  disloyalty  was  discovered,  he 
was  severely  banished  from  favour.  Months 
later  we  find  his  mother  pleading  for  him  in  vain.^ 
However,  whether  or  no  as  a  result  of  Pepys' 
efforts,  John  began  before  long  to  give  more  satis- 
faction. On  leaving  Cambridge  he  was  to  take 
holy  orders,  and  Samuel  proceeded  to  look  out 
for  "  spiritual  promotion  "  for  him,  meanwhile 
decreeing  that  he  should  wear  "  canonical  dress  " 
that  he  might  be  fitter  to  go  about  with  him.*  One 
day  a.  sudden  illness  as  usual  surprised  the  elder 
brother  into  a  tone  of  affection ;  the  incident  is 
thus  graphically  described  :  "  Talking  with  my 
brother  upon  matters  relating  to  his  journey 
to  Brampton  to-morrow  ...  I  looking  another 
way  heard  him  fall  down,  and  turned  my  head, 
and  he  was  fallen  down  all  along  upon  the  ground 
dead,  which  did  put  me  into  a  great  fright ;  and, 
to  see  my  brotherly  love  !  I  did  presently  lift 
him  up  from  the  ground,  he  being  as  pale  as 

1  June  22,  1665.        «  February  21,  September  27,  1666. 


}fl 


80 


Samuel  Pepys 


Samuel  PePys 


81 


H( 


death  ;  and,  being  upon  his  legs,  he  did  presently 
come  to  himself,  and  said  he  had  something  come 
into  his  stomach  very  hot."    By  night  he  had 
quite  recovered,  and  Pepys,  not  without  emotion, 
gave  him  20/.  for  books,  and  as  much  for  his 
pocket.    "  Poor   fellow  !  "   he   adds,    "  he   is   so 
melancholy,  and  withal,  my  wife  says,  harmless, 
that  I  begin  to  love  him,  and  would  be  loth  he 
should  not  do  well,"  ^    John  did  not  get  spiritual 
promotion   after   all ;    the   canonical   dress   was 
abandoned,   and  in    1670   his   brother   obtained 
for  him  the  office  of  Clerk  to  the  Trinity  House. 
Three  years  later,  when  Samuel  himself  was  pro- 
moted from  the  Clerkship  of  the  Acts  to  be  Secre- 
tary of  the  Admiralty,  the  former  office  was  con- 
ferred on  John  Pepys,  who  held  it  jointly  with 
Thomas  Hayter,  till  then  Samuel's  clerk.    John 
Pepys  died  in  1677,  and  even  he  proved  true  at 
his   death  to  the  family  characteristics  against 
which  Samuel  struggled  alone  :  he  left  a  debt  of 
^300  due  to  the  Trinity  House  to  be  settled  by 
his  prudent  brother. 

1  February  7,  1667. 


Outside  this  immediate  circle  there  was  a  wide 
fringe  of  uncles  and  aunts  and  cousins,  most  of 
them  in  humble  circumstances,  and  some  of  them 
liable  to  be  troublesome.    Pepys  condemns  him- 
self on  one  occasion  for  his  "  pride  and  contempt  " 
for  his  poor  relations,^  and  it  must  be  admitted 
that,  as  his  prosperity  carried  him  above  their 
heads,  he  preferred  the  higher  world  which  was 
gradually  thrown  open  to  him.    But  he  was  ready 
to  be  of  use  when  needed,  and  his  willingness 
involved  him  in  more  than  one  vexatious  business. 
Moreover,  many  of  them  were  pleasant  enough, 
and  to  such  his  house  was  always  hospitably  open. 
There  were  constant   gay  parties,   singing  and 
dancing  and  eating,  in  which  the  humbler  mem- 
bers  of   his   circle   had   their   full   share.    The 
Turners  and  the  Joyces  especially,  two  families  of 
cousins,  appear  continually  in  the  Diary,  though, 
like  every  one  else,  they  come  in  for  plenty  of 
plain  speaking  first  and  last.    "  So  to  my  brother's, 
and  there  I  found  my  aunt  James,  a  poor,  religious, 

^  September  5,  1664. 


^^"^^SirsSir 


82 


Samuel  Pepys 


well-meaning,  good  soul,  talking  of  nothing  but 
God  Almighty,  and  that  with  so  much  innocence 
that  mightily  pleased  me  "  ^—felicitous  sketches 
of  this  sort  are  common.  Pepys'  attitude  to 
these  folk  was  that  with  which  we  are  now  familiar 
— affection  and  a  strong  sense  of  family  responsi- 
bility, struggling  with  the  irritation  which  a 
practical  and  ambitious  man  inevitably  feels  at 
the  sight  of  mismanaged  affairs,  or  even  of  con- 
tented acquiescence  in  obscurity  and  narrow 
conditions. 

The  larger  world,  the  world  in  which  people 
live  with  dignity,  the  world  from  which  fuss  and 
worry  and  squalid  troubles  are  at  any  rate  super- 
ficially absent,  was  that  which  Pepys  enjoyed 
not  exactly  out  of  snobbishness,  but  from  the 
mere  satisfaction  which  it  gave  to  his  love  of 
seeing  things  decently  and  handsomely  ordered. 
He  had  plenty  of  proper  pride,  and  his  relish  at 
finding  himself  in  high  company  never  betrayed 
itself  by  servility  or  nervous   effusiveness.    More- 

1  Majr  30,  1663. 


Samuel  Pepys 


83 


over,  he  was  as  exacting  a  critic  of  behaviour  in 
circles  of  rank  and  fashion  as  in  his  own  social 
degree.  Nothing  is  more  readily  to  be  illus- 
trated from  the  Diary  than  his  severe  sense  of 
the  proper  way  for  people  of  position  to  comport 
themselves.  It  was  not  precisely  moral,  this  sense, 
it  was  rather  artistic.  He  objected  to  effrontery 
and  loose  talk,  not  so  much  as  being  wrong  in 
itself,  as  being  unbecoming  and  out  of  place.  It 
is,  perhaps,  a  slender  distinction,  but  it  is  enough 
to  save  his  disapprobation  from  being  pharisaical. 
His  professions  of  respectability,  placed  side  by 
side  in  the  Diary  with  the  loving  record  of  his 
own  lapses,  are  thus  not  entirely  unreal.  He  did 
not  take  his  stand,  in  his  condenmations  of  the 
morals  and  manners  of  high  life,  solely  on  the 
ground  that  they  were  offensive  to  his  sense  of 
right  and  wrong.  He  would  doubtless  have  said 
that  he  did,  but  then  he  was  not  clearer  in  his 
knowledge  of  his  own  motives  than  other  people. 
His  copious  outpourings  give  the  reader  a  juster 
view  of  him,  because  a  more  comprehensive,  than 


84 


Samuel  Pepys 


n  ' 


\  ^ 


he,  at  close  quarters  with  himself,  could  possibly 
get ;  and  it  is  this  that  enables  us,  even  though 
we  have  only  his  own  utterances  to  go  upon,  to 
claim  to  know  more  about  his  feelings  in  some 
respects  than  he  did  himself.  At  least  this  high 
standard  which  he  expected  from  the  highly 
placed  saves  him  from  the  charge  of  mere  servi- 
lity. He  enjoyed  finding  himself  more  and  more 
upon  equal  terms  with  the  rich  and  great ;  but 
his  enjoyment  was  less  due  to  the  power  which  it 
gave  him  of  looking  down  on  those  whom  he  had 
left  behind  than  to  the  fact  that  his  promotion 
brought  him  into  an  atmosphere  that  was  soothing 
to  his  irritated  nerves. 

His  relations  with  his  patron's  family,  the 
Montagus,  to  whom  he  owed  so  much,  were 
admirable  throughout.  He  began,  as  we  have 
seen,  by  being  the  humble  dependant,  expected 
to  make  himself  useful  in  return  for  his  keep. 
This  he  did  so  well  that  he  rapidly  rose  in  the 
family's  confidence,  was  entrusted  with  their 
most  intimate  aflFairs,  and  was  constantly  looked 


Sir  Edward  Montagu,  first  Earl  of  Sandwich. 

From  the  painting  by  Sir  Peter  Lely  (National  Portrait  Gallery). 


( 


I 


i  : 


Samuel  Pepys 


85 


to  for  help  and  even  advice.    Meanwhile,  his 
rise  in  the  world  went  forward,  and  he  on  his  side 
never  forgot  the  share  that  Montagu  had  had  in 
it.    Even  when  he  had  long  found  his  feet,  and 
was  quite  independent  of  his  patron's  favour,  his 
attitude  was  still  one  of  graceful  deference  towards 
him.    He  never  felt  the  very  human  temptation 
to  insist  on  a  familiar  equality  with  those  who  had 
helped  him  in  the  days  of  his  obscurity.    If  he 
sometimes,  like  the  under-servants  in  a  wise  and 
witty  play  of  recent  times,  enjoyed  being  able 
to  "  take  it  out  of  the  odds  and  ends,"  he  was 
perfect  in  his  connexion  with  these  good  people. 
Two   incidents    especially   illustrate    the    happy 
quality  of  this  relation. 

The  first  occurred  late  in  1663.  Lord  Sand- 
wich, as  he  must  now  be  called  (he  was  so  created 
shortly  after  the  Restoration),  had  fallen  into 
bad  courses,  to  the  distress  of  his  family  and 
friends.  In  particular  he  had  become  entangled 
with  a  woman  of  as  little  birth  as  character,  in 
whose  company  he  dawdled  at  Chelsea  when  he 


I 


/ 


^j:dij!»«..'-jij!*.  ■A<-i.>-^j^-  -.^.^-^  .». 


86 


Samuel  Pepys 


I 


ii| 


I 


should  have  been  minding  his  affairs  and  showing 
himself  at  Court.  This  double  neglect  of  his 
duties  was  beginning  to  tell  upon  his  public  as 
well  as  his  private  reputation.  Pepys  felt  this 
bitterly,  and  debated  long  whether  he  could 
not  do  something  to  bring  his  patron  to  a  sense 
of  his  obligations.  Finally  he  decided,  with  some 
trepidation,  to  write  him  what  he  called  a  "  great 
letter  of  reproof,"  risking  out  of  sincere  devotion 
what  might  easily  be  a  strain  upon  Sandwich's 
friendship  for  him.  The  great  letter  is  duly 
inserted  in  the  Diary  (November  i8,  1663).  It 
is  a  model  of  tact  and  judgment.  Pepy«  carefully 
refrains  from  making  any  allegations,  he  simply 
tells  him  what  is  being  said,  and  how  his  absence 
from  Court  is  being  commented  upon.  There 
followed  some  anxious  days,  but  it  soon  became 
clear  that  Sandwich  was  taking  the  friendly 
warning  to  heart ;  though  his  actual  answer  to 
Pepys,  at  an  interview  at  which  they  talked  it  over, 
was  an  emphatic  assertion  that  it  was  a  matter 
which  concerned  himself  and  not  others.    The 


Samuel  Pepys 


87 


meaning  of  this,  however,  Pepys  shrewdly  judged, 
was  "  that  he  might  not  seem  to  me  to  be  so 
much  wrought  upon  by  what  I  have  writ."  Any- 
how, an  improvement  in  Sandwich's  behaviour 
was  noticeable  before  long,  and  his  position  was 
recovered.  He  did,  indeed,  for  a  time,  revenge 
himself  upon  the  faithful  Pepys  by  treating  him 
with  undeserved  coldness ;  but  his  good  sense 
triumphed  when  this  tribute  had  been  paid  to 
self-respect,  and  their  relations  became  again  as 
cordial  as  ever. 

The  other  incident  was  a  more  genial  one. 
In  1665  a  match  was  arranged  for  one  of  Sand- 
vrich's  daughters.  Lady  Jemima,  with  the  eldest 
son  of  Sir  George  Carteret.  Everything  was 
happily  settled,  the  young  people  had  liked  the 
look  of  each  other,  the  parents  on  both  sides 
were  highly  contented ;  but  a  fortnight  before 
the  wedding,  it  seemed  time  for  the  bride  and 
bridegroom  to  become  rather  more  intimately 
acquainted  with  one  another.  Pepys,  whose 
help  had  been  most  useful  during  the  previous 


V 


88 


¥l 


Samuel  Pepys 


negotiations,    accordingly   escorted   young   Car- 
teret on  a  visit  to  Lady  Jemima,  who  was  then 
staying  with  an  aunt  at  Dagnams,  near  Rom- 
ford.   The  account    in  the  Diary  of    this    two 
days'  visit  is  brimful  of    friendly,  half-fatherly 
humour.    Pepys  had  his  work  cut  out  for  him 
to  rouse  some  sign  of  enterprise  in  the  lover, 
who  was  shy  with  all  the  shyness  of  extreme 
and   unusually   modest   youth.    "  Lord ! "    says 
Pepys,  who  had  certainly  never  suffered  from 
this  disability,  "  what  silly  discourse  we  had  by 
the  way  as  to  love-matters,  he  being  the  most 
awkerd  man  I  ever  met  with  in  my  life  as  to 
that  business."    It  was  like  introducing  a  pair 
of  children  to  each  other.     "  To  supper,  and  after 
supper   to   talk   again,  he   yet   taking  no   notice 
of   the  lady.  ...  So   they  led  him  up   to  his 
chamber,  where  I  staid  a  little,  to  know  how  he 
liked  the  lady,  which  he  told  me  he  did  mightily ; 
but.  Lord !    in  the  dullest  insipid  manner  that 
ever  lover  did."    Next  morning  Pepys  was  deter- 
mined  no   more   time   should   be   wasted :     '*  I 


Samuel  Pepys 


89 

taught  him  what  to  do :   to  take  the  lady  always 
by  the  hand  to  lead  her,  and  telling  him  that  I 
would  find   opportunity  to  leave  them  two  to- 
gether, he  should  make  these  and  these  compli- 
ments."   After  this  the  young  gentleman  made 
a  little  more  progress :    though  he  had  not  yet 
the  confidence  to  take  the  lady  by  the  hand. 
But   before  they  left  Lady  Jemima   blushingly 
confided  to  Pepys  that  "  she  could  readily  obey 
what  her  father  and  mother  had  done;    which 
was  all  she  could  say,  or  I  expect."    When  Pepys 
and  Mr.  Carteret  reached  home  again,  there  was 
"  mighty  mirth  at  my  giving  them  an  account 
of  all ;   but  the  young  man  could  not  be  got  to 
say  one  word  before  me  or  my  Lady  Sandwich 
of  his  adventures,  but,  by  what  he  afterwards 
related  to  his  father  and  mother  and  sisters,  he 
gives  an  account  that  pleases  them  mightily."  1 
A  few  days  later  the  wedding  was  celebrated 
with  what  was  evidently  an  unusual  degree  of 
decorum,  for  Pepys  takes  occasion  to  mention 

^  November  15,  16,  17,  1665. 


';  f   4 


90 


Samuel  Pepys 


that  the  modesty  and  gravity  of  it  all  was  "  ten 
times  more  delightful  than  if  it  had  been  twenty 
times  more  merry  and  joviall."  The  whole 
episode  forms  a  picture  of  that  distant  life  which 
seems  to  bring  it  very  close  indeed,  and  Pepys 
with  his  humour  and  his  kindly  feeling  does  it 
full  justice. 

He  had  a  less  friendly  spirit  for  some  of  his 
other  distinguished  friends.  His  colleagues  of 
the  Navy  Office  in  particular,  with  the  one  and 
notable  exception  of  Sir  William  Coventry,  are 
treated  with  fine  scorn  in  the  Diary,  though  he 
was  more  prudent  in  his  actual  dealings  with 
them.  If  they  were  less  competent  than  he  was, 
he  certainly  made  the  most  of  their  incompetence. 
He  even  on  occasion  took  a  kind  of  Machia- 
vellian pleasure  in  hugging  his  contempt  of  them 
while  he  openly  treated  them  with  all  politeness. 
He  describes  a  dinner  at  Sir  William  Penn's  with 
the  air  of  an  intriguer  in  a  melodrama  which  sits 
amusingly  upon  his  rosy  and  genial  countenance  : 
"  Here,"  he  says,  "  as  merry  as  in  so  false  a  place. 


Samuel  Pepys 


91 


and  where  I  must  dissemble  my  hatred,  I  could 
be."  ^  Another  time,  when  he  himself  was  enter- 
taining the  Penns  and  Sir  W.  Batten,  he  observes : 
"  I  had  an  extraordinary  good  and  handsome 
dinner  for  them,  better  than  any  of  them  deserve 
or  understand  ...  and  not  much  mirth,  only 
what  I  by  discourse  made,  and  that  against  my 
genius."  ^  Pepys'  caustic  descriptions  of  people 
must  always  be  taken  with  a  good  deal  of  reserve  ; 
he  scattered  his  epithets  with  great  recklessness, 
and  had  a  considerable  taste  for  scandal.  He 
sometimes  covers  pages  together  vdth  tattle 
about  the  court  and  society  retailed  to  him  by 
some  casual  acquaintance  as  he  drank  his  morn- 
ing draught  at  a  tavern,  all  of  which  he  swallows 
in  perfect  faith. 

At  the  same  time  he  knew  how  to  appreciate 
goodness  as  well  as  good  company.  One  of  the 
friends  who  stands  out  most  clearly  in  the  Diary, 
though  as  yet  he  did  not  see  so  very  much  of  him, 
is  the  admirable  John  Evelyn.    It  is  agreeable  to 

1  June  6,  1667.       *  September  11,  1667. 


l'> 


< 


} 


92 


Samuel  Pepys 


tl 


find  the  two  Diarists,  of  character  so  diametrically 
opposed,  enjoying  each  other's  friendship,  and 
appreciating  each  other's  qualities.    Each,  more- 
over, rendered  the  other  an  unsuspected  service, 
for  each  recorded  in  his  diary  an  aspect  of  the 
other,  very  necessary  for  our  full  understanding, 
which  neither  chose  nor  was  able  to  give  of  himself. 
In  Evelyn's  Diary  we  get  the  external  view  of 
Pepys,  the  view  of  him  as  a  worthy,  respectable, 
serious  man,  which  is  so  easily  missed  among  the 
thousand  indiscretions  of  his   own  record.    In 
Pepys',  to  the  still  greater  advantage  of  his  friend, 
we  find  the  other  side  of  Evelyn's  impeccable  - 
deportment,  a  welcome  indication  or  two  that 
he  also  had  his   occasional  lapses  from  perfect 
sedateness.    These  lapses  were  not,  indeed,  very 
grave,  but  if  we  have  most  of  us  found  Evelyn's 
gentlemanliness    a    little    oppressive,    compared 
with    Pepys'    whole-hearted    self-abandonment, 
they  deserve  to  be  made  the  most  of.     Let  us 
give  the  following  its  full  due  : 
"  The  receipt  of  this  news,"  writes  Pepys  on 


Samuel  Pepys 


93 


September  lo,  1665,  referring  to  the  capture  of 
the  East  India  prizes,  "  did  put  us  all  into  such 
an  extacy  of  joy,  that  it  inspired  into  Sir  J.  Minnes 
and  Mr.  Evelyn  such  a  spirit  of  mirth,  that  in 
all  my  life  I  never  met  with  so  merry  a  two  hours 
as  our  company  this  night  was.  Among  other 
humours,  Mr.  Evelyn's  repeating  of  some  verses 
made  up  of  nothing  but  the  various  acceptations 
of  may  and  ca%  and  doing  it  so  aptly  upon  occasion 
of  something  of  that  nature,  and  so  fast,  did  make 
us  all  die  almost  with  laughing,  and  did  so  stop 
the  mouth  of  Sir  J.  Minnes  in  the  middle  of  all 
his  mirth  (and  in  a  thing  agreeing  with  his  own 
manner  of  genius),  that  I  never  saw  any  man  so 
out-done  in  all  my  life  ;  and  Sir  J.  Minnes'  mirth 
too  to  see  himself  out-done,  was  the  crown  of 
all  our  mirth." 

It  is  delightful  to  have  Evelyn  for  once  so 
completely  given  away — caught  unawares  by  his 
indiscreet  friend  in  a  moment  which  he  did  not 
himself  choose  to  perpetuate.  Evelyn  little 
knew  that  any  one  who  wished  to  survive  as  a 


(' 


j.i 


ll 


ll^' 


94 


Samuel  Pepys 


model  of  grave  behaviour  should  be  careful  not 
to  have  Pepys  for  a  friend.  Sooner  or  later  those 
blabbing  pages  of  shorthand  would  be  sure  to 
catch  and  preserve  some  unguarded  moment 
which  the  model  would  prefer  to  let  die.  Evelyn's 
appearance  as  a  sociable  rattle,  capping  puns 
amidst  applauding  laughter,  is  passed  over  in 
silence  in  his  own  Diary,  but  Pepys  did  him  good 
service  in  describing  it.  Here  is  another  glimpse 
of  this  excellent  man,  a  sketch  which  could  hardly 
be  surpassed  for  its  vividness  and  humorous  appre- 
ciation : 

"JBy  water  to  Deptford,  and  there  made  a  visit 
to  Mr.  Evelyn,  who,  among  other  things,  showed 
me  most  excellent  painting  in  little  ;  in  distemper, 
Indian  incke,  water-colours ;  graveing ;  and 
above  all,  the  whole  secret  of  mezzo-tinto,  and  the 
manner  of  it,  which  is  very  pretty,  and  good 
things  done  with  it.  He  read  to  me  very  much 
also  of  his  discourse,  he  hath  been  many  years 
and  is  now  about,  about  Guardenage  ;  which  will 
be  a  most  noble  and  pleasant  piece.    He  read 


Samuel  Pepys 


95 


me  part  of  a  play  or  two  of  his  making,  very  good, 
but  not  as  he  conceits  them,  I  think,  to  be.  .  .  . 
In  fine,  a  most  excellent  person  he  is,  and  must 
be  allowed  a  little  for  a  little  conceitedness  ;  but 
he  may  well  be  so,  being  a  man  so  much  above 
others.  He  read  me,  though  with  too  much 
gusto,  some  little  poems  of  his  own,  that  were 
not  transcendant,  yet  one  or  two  very  pretty  epi- 
grams ;  among  others,  of  a  lady  looking  in  at  a  grate, 
and  being  pecked  by  an  eagle  that  was  there."  ^ 

A  more  illuminating  moment  could  hardly 
have  been  chosen  for  us  to  watch  the  two  friends 
together — ^the  restless,  insatiable  Pepys,  condemned 
to  temporary  silence  and  repose,  while  his  host 
insists  on  reading  aloud  to  him,  not  without 
complacency,  his  unpublished  plays  and  poems. 
Their  friendship  was  lifelong,  and  when  Pepys 
died,  Evelyn  marked  the  event  in  his  Diary  by  a 
deliberate  and  dignified  eulogy. 

During  the  years  covered  by  his  own  Diary 
Pepys  saw  something  of  the  King  and  rose  high 

^  November  5,  1665. 


96 


Samuel  Pepys 


I 


I 


in  the  confidence  of  the  Duke  of  York.  But  his 
relations  with  both  were  official,  and  the  society 
of  the  Court  he  knew  only  from  outside.  Yet 
it  was  easy  for  him,  Court  life  in  those  days  being 
a  matter  of  such  open-door  publicity,  to  see  as 
well  as  to  hear  a  good  deal  of  what  went  on  there. 
He  was  perfectly  familiar  with  the  appearance 
of  the  various  royal  personages,  the  statesmen 
and  favourites,  the  obsolete  or  still  triumphant 
beauties,  as  well  as  with  their  reputations.  There 
was  little  guarded  privacy  in  the  huddled  collec- 
tion of  buildings  which  did  duty  for  the  Palace 
of  Whitehall,  and  Pepys  could  wander  as  he  chose 
in  the  Matted  Gallery  and  satisfy  to  the  full  his 
gust  for  distinguished  life.  The  London  world  was 
very  small,  and  the  approaches  to  it  were  not  intri- 
cate. Pepys'  delight  was,  as  usual,  discriminating. 
He  was  interested  to  see  the  King  "  touching  for 
the  evil,"  but  he  was  not  carried  away ;  his  con- 
clusion was  that  it  seemed  to  be  "  an  ugly  office 
and  a  simple  one."  ^     He  had  his  standard  for 

^  April  13,  1661. 


Samuel  Pepys 


97 


royal  personages,  and  even  at  the  height  of  excite- 
ment, however  thrilling  and  intimate  his  glimpses 
of  the  august  interior,  he  did  not  relax  it.  Charles' 
humour,  such  echoes  of  it  at  least  as  reached  him, 
was  broad  enough  in  all  conscience  to  tickle  his 
own  simple  sense,  but  it  was  hardly  of  a  kind 
which  could  be  called  kingly.  Pepys  laughed,  and 
while  he  laughed,  reflected,  with  his  passion  for 
appropriateness,  that  a  king  should  indulge  in  a 
higher  strain  than  one  which  might  be  good 
enough  for  private  citizens.  The  Court  manners, 
too,  the  whole  easy-going  display  of  wit  and 
licence  and  brutality,  were  an  offence  to  his  taste, 
even  while  his  human  inquisitiveness  greedily 
asked  for  the  details.  All  this  was  in  character, 
as  I  have  already  tried  to  show,  the  character 
being  neither  that  of  a  snob,  eager  to  accept  new 
standards,  if  these  great  people  seemed  to  demand 
it,  nor  that  of  a  hypocrite,  ready  with  moral 
censure  which  he  did  not  apply  to  his  own  prac- 
tices. For  royalty,  indeed,  he  had  a  standard 
which,  with  unwonted  vestiges  of  humour  at  his 

7 


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I 


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f 

I 


98 


Samuel  Pepys 


own  expense,  he  could  half  admit  to  be  ludicrous. 
When  he  notes  that  it  seemed,  as  he  watched  a 
royal  progress  along  the  river  in  pouring  rain, 
to  lessen  his  esteem  for  the  king  that  he  could 
not  command  the  weather,^  we  must  not  take 
him  as  entirely  serious.  Such  instinctive  pieces 
of  simplicity  recur  now  and  then,  as  when  he 
heard  Lord  Chancellor  Clarendon  ask  the  Duke 
of  York,  "  not  how  the  Princes  or  the  Dukes  do, 
as  other  people  do,  but  '  How  do  the  children  ? ' 
which  methought  was  mighty  great,  and  like  a 
great  man  and  grandfather."  * 

What,  however,  was  a  perfectly  serious  matter 
for  Pepys  was  his  principle  that  a  king  must  not 
be  lightly  spoken  of,  be  his  behaviour  what  it 
might — that  it  was  "  not  a  thing  to  be  said  of 
any  Soveraigne  Prince,  be  his  weaknesses  what 
they  will,  to  be  called  a  sot."  ' 

But  with  all  his  opportunities  of  watching 
and  noticing — of  peering  over  people's  shoulders, 

1  July  19,  1662.  *  May  14,  1667. 

'  October  26,  1663. 


Samuel  Pepys 


99 


so  to  speak,  to  see  the  unfortunate  little  Queen 
affronted  by  the  blemished  ladies  with  whom 
her  husband  surrounded  her,  or  to  hear  the  King 
bandying  full-flavoured  pleasantries  with  Buck- 
ingham— Pepys  did  not,  at  any  rate  during  the 
time  of  the  Diary,  arrive  at  jnuch  real  knowledge 
of  the  Court.  Whitehall  was  to  him  only  a  theatre 
for  vivid  little  episodes  watched  from  a  distance. 
Of  the  political  forces  at  work  there  he  had  small 
means  of  judging,  his  work  bringing  him  into 
contact  merely  with  administrative  affairs.  The 
great  drama  of  conflict,  the  conflict  of  king  and 
people,  which  was  now  being  played  out  to  an 
end,  was  beyond  him,  or  rather  it  presented  itself 
to  him  only  as  the  perennial  shortage  of  money 
for  the  navy,  with  which  he  was  but  too  well 
acquainted.  Besides,  he  was  not  one  to  look  far 
for  reasons  or  origins,  or  to  desire  generalizations 
which  should  illuminate  his  particular  fragments 
of  experience.  He  collected  the  pictures  of  life 
which  came  his  way,  and  stored  them  up  in  his 
treasured  manusciipt,  without  caring  to  explain 


"t 


100 


Samuel  Pepys 


u 


r. 


I 


or  to  compare  them.     He  had  no  sense  of  per- 
spective, and  his  Diary  is  like  a  mediaeval  minia- 
ture in  the  way  in  which  every  detail,  significant 
or  of  no  importance  whatever,  is  rendered  with 
equal  tone  and  distinctness.     Thus,  while  we  read 
it   critically — constantly,   that  is,   placing  it  in 
relation  to  the  larger  problems  and  strifes  of  the 
time — it  is  important  to  remember  that  Pepys 
himself  did  nothing  of  the  kind.    The  foreground 
was  all  in  all  to  him,  relative  values  were  nothing. 
There  is,  therefore,  no  need   to  inquire  what 
the  relative  value  may  have  been  in  its  time  of 
the  blooming  and  brazen  figure  of  Lady  Castle- 
maine.    Whether  she   was    or   was    not    of   real 
importance,   whether   Charles'   ironic    wit    sur- 
veyed her   coolly,  or    (as  indeed   it    might  well 
seem)  surrendered  entirely  to  her,  was  a  distinc- 
tion with  which  Pepys  was  not  concerned.     She 
is  not,  in  truth,  a  personage  of  much  reality  for 
us  now,  and  as  Pepys' acquaintance  with  her  was 
all  at  a  distance,  she  might  appear  to  be  not  much 
more  so  to  him.     But,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  she 


Samuel  Pepys 


lOI 


represented  for  him,  in  the  early  years  of  the 
Diary,  a  sort  of  ideal, — very  earthly  and  limited, 
as  indeed  they  neither  of  them  had  much  share 
of  the  divine, — but  still  an  ideal.  Pepys  was 
highly  conscious  of  the  "  strange  slavery,"  as  he 
calls  it,  "  that  I  stand  in  to  beauty,  that  I  value 
nothing  near  it,"  ^  and  the  tarnished  allure- 
ments of  Lady  Castlemaine  for  a  long  while 
set  the  standard.  He  watched  her  where  he 
could,  at  the  play  or  in  the  park,  a  luxurious  feast 
for  the  eyes.  His  devotion  to  women  was  as 
little  chivalrous  as  could  be.  Of  the  many  he 
pursued  not  one  was  an  occasion  of  any  romance 
whatever.  His  amorous  adventures  had  no  accom- 
paniment  of  poetry,  and  he  does  not  attempt 
to  create  one  for  them  in  his  Diary,  though  the 
romping  and  giggling  which  they  entailed  are 
dwelt  upon  with  loving  particularity.  In  his 
very  elemental  vision  of  feminine  beauty  Castle- 
maine was,  no  doubt,  an  appropriate  queen  ;  but 
we  must  allow  to  Pepys  one  spark  of  imagination, 

^  September  6,  1664. 


'si. 


I02 


M 


i 


Samuel  Pepys 


if  no  more  than  that,  in  the  homage  he  paid  her. 
After  all,  she  was  not  within  his  reach,  as  all  the 
others  were  so  easily  and  completely.  "  Here," 
he  writes  of  a  visit  to  Sir  Peter  Lely's  studio,  "  (I) 
saw  the  so  much  desired  by  me  picture  of  my 
Lady  Castlemaine,  which  is  a  most  blessed  picture ; 
and  that  I  must  have  a  copy  of."  i  An  attach- 
ment which  had  to  subsist  solely  upon  distant 
glimpses  and  a  blessed  picture  by  Lely  deserves 
to  be  emphasized  as  appearing,  in  contrast  with 
Pepys'  other  experiences  in  this  region,  positively 
almost  ethereal. 

In  the  days  of  this  delicate  passion,  his  more 
substantial  enterprises  were  few  and  prudently 
conducted.  It  was  only  by  slow  degrees  that  he 
arrived  at  the  hazardous  promiscuity  indicated 
in  the  later  volumes  of  the  Diary.  In  1662  he 
could  still,  with  perfect  simplicity,  mention  that 
he  liked  the  looks  of  one  of  his  maids,  but  dared 
not  make  any  advances  "for  fear  she  should 
prove  honest,  and  refuse  and  then  tell  my  wife."  « 

1  October  20,  1662.  2  August  I,  1662. 


1 


f#l 


Photo  Lnury  Walker,  Lutuion. 

Duchess  of  Cleveland  (Lady  Castlemaine). 

From  the  painting  by  Sir  Peter  Lely  (National  Portrait  Gallery). 


f1 


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'I 


J 


) 


Samuel  Pepys 


103 


As  such  scruples  as  these  were  left  further  and 
further  behind,  this  ingenuous  tone  gives  place  to 
the  famous  devices  which  he  invented  for  hiding 
the  baldness  of  his  confessions.  An  intermediate 
stage  is  marked  in  a  cautious  account  of  an  outing 
one  afternoon  to  Tothill  Fields,  which  it  was 
most  important  should  not  come  to  Mrs.  Pepys' 
ears.  His  companion  on  this  occasion  is  guardedly- 
referred  to  as  "  the  fairest  flower."  ^  Later  on, 
he  required  something  obscurer  than  mere  fancies 
of  expression  like  this.  The  shorthand  in  which 
he  wrote  seemed  insufficient ;  he  confused  it 
in  particularly  private  passages  by  inserting 
alternate  "  dummy  letters,"  so  that  even  if  the 
first  disguise  was  pierced  and  the  cipher  translite- 
rated, the  intruder  would  still  be  thwarted  by 
— "  sjo  drikd  kqitsgs  hwepr  bhemhridnxd  tnhse 
dcovofr "  (or  something  of  the  sort).  This 
modest  veil  was  used  to  supplement  another 
method  of  concealment,  which  truly  is  the  most 
surprising  of  all.    Pepys  seems  to  have  thought 

^  June  I,  1665. 


A 


\ 


ril 


104 


Samuel  Pepys 


that  the  risks  of  discovery  could  be  lessened  by 
sprinkling  the  more  dangerous  revelations  with 
a   shower   of    foreign    words,    French,    Italian, 
Spanish,  Latin,  and  even  Greek,  or  at  least  with 
such  approximations  to  foreign  words  as  most 
readily  presented  themselves.     Exactly  in  what 
way  he  supposed  that  expressions  like  "Betty 
whispering  me  behind  the  tergo  de  her  mari," 
or  "  There  did  baiser  la  little  missa,"  would  con- 
trive to  baffle  suspicion  he  might  have  found  it 
hard  to  explain,  but  clearly  the  method  was  some- 
how reassuring.    Under  this  cunning  shelter  he 
felt  able  to  be  as  expansive  as  he  chose,  and, 
indeed,  he  availed  himself  of  it  to  such  purpose 
that  it  has  not  yet  been  judged  possible  to  follow 
his    most    extreme    excursions    in    print.    The 
omissions,    however,   if   frequent,   are   of   small 
extent,  and  moreover,  what  is  more  to  our  point, 
they  do  not  in  the  least  affect  our  opportunities 
ot  estimating  Pepys'  character.     From  this  point 
of  view,  for  example,  the  details  of  the  actual 
scene,  as  old  as  the  fall  of  man,  which  took  place 


\ 


\ 


X. 


Samuel  Pepys 


105 


one  memorable  day  at  a  cabinet-maker's  across 
the  river,  have  little  biographical  value  compared 
vdth  the  terrified  account  which  follows,  in  a 
whirl  of  mangled  languages,  describing  his  narrow 
escape  from  detection  at  home.*  Whether  there 
are  or  are  not  other  reasons  for  printing  a  book 
of  such  importance  absolutely  in  full  is,  of 
course,  a  different  matter,  on  which  opinions 
may  naturally  disagree. 

Of  the  objects  of  Pepys'  pursuit  some  were 
entirely  unashamed  in  character,  others  were 
unprotected  and  at  his  mercy.  He  took  as  few 
risks  as  he  conveniently  could,  and  did  not  waste 
his  time  over  difficult  conquests.  The  lowness, 
the  crudity  of  his  taste,  were  only  equalled  by 
the  intensity  of  his  enjoyment.  To  carry  off 
some  over-blown  flower  of  the  town  to  a  tavern, 
or  to  damage  the  virtue  of  a  servant-girl — the 
excitement  he  discovered  in  such  triumphs  as  these 
seems  inexhaustible.  He  had  far  too  much 
reverence  for  the  laws  of  outward  respectability 

^  February  11,  1667. 


^1 


r 


I 


io6 


I    7 


Samuel  Pepys 


to  be  tempted  by  higher  flights  or  more  dashing 
enterprises.  He  could  extract  all  the  amusement 
he  needed  out  of  the  lowliest  and  least  expensive 
of  intrigues.  It  may,  indeed,  be  doubted  whether, 
if  his  taste  had  been  more  fastidious,  his  desire 
for  propriety  in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  fortified 
by  his  horror  of  extravagance,  would  not  have 
been  strong  enough  to  keep  him  in  the  paths  of 
virtue. 

The  interesting  element,  indeed,  in  all  these 
highly  commonplace  adventures  is  his  unques- 
tioning acquiescence  in  the  demands  of  convention. 
It  is  surprising  to  find  all  the  timidities  and  sub- 
terfuges natural  enough  to  an  ordinary  man  in 
an  age  which  has  learnt  to  be  self-conscious  and 
ashamed,  so  faithfully  reproduced  in  exactly 
that  period  which  we  commonly  think  of  as  the 
most  unrestrained,  the  most  indecorous  in  our 
history.  What  was  Pepys,  with  his  supremely 
cautious  defiance  of  the  proprieties,  doing  in  the 
saturnalia  of  the  Restoration  ?  What  penalties 
had  he  to  fear  in  an  age  which,  as  it  seems  now, 


Samuel  Pepys 


IQT] 


demanded  about  as  little  sacrifice  to  the  powers 
of  convention  as  any  that  the  world  has  known  ? 
Pepys'  unconscious  portrait  of  himself,  in  this 
aspect,  would  be  quite  appropriate  to  the  London 
of  Victorian  satirists ;  but  what  was  the  London 
of  Charles  II  if  not  a  place  where  manners  ran 
riot  at  everybody's  unchallenged  will  ?  Two 
considerations  we  may  indeed  discern  which  had 
weight  with  the  kind  of  man  Pepys  happened 
to  be — one  his  pecuniary  thriftiness,  the  other 
his  dislike  of  domestic  troubles.  Even  in  the 
most  favouring  atmosphere,  such  habits  cannot 
freely  luxuriate  without  expense  of  solid  cash, 
and  Pepys'  fondness  for  his  increasing  pile  was  not 
lightly  to  be  trifled  with.  As  for  the  harmony 
of  his  home,  that,  too,  was  a  state  of  things  he 
fully  appreciated  ;  it  agreed  with  his  taste  for 
the  orderly  appointment  of  the  whole  routine  of 
life,  and  to  disturb  it  meant  worry  and  discomfort 
in  a  hundred  small  ways.  To  do  him  justice,  he 
also  desired,  as  far  as  conveniently  might  be,  to 
spare  distress  to  his  wife,  though  it  cannot  truth- 


'   f 


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«.  / 


yi 


'I 


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1 08 


Samuel  Pepys 


fully  be  said  that  this  restraining  influence  was 
as  powerful  as  the  other.    But  over  and  above 
all  this  there  remains  his  evident  and  undeniable 
fear  of  opinion,  and  we  are  accordingly  forced 
to  infer  that  opinion  in  this  sense  existed,  a  real 
strength  of  convention  with  which  it  was  necessary 
for  a  rising  man  of  the  middle  class  to  reckon. 
Our  national  hypocrisies  are  thus  not  as  young 
as  we  sometimes  suppose,  perhaps  not  even  as 
national.     If  the  spectre  of  convention  had  power 
in  London  at  the  Restoration,  in  what  age  and 
what  country  may  it  not  flourish  ? 


.'H 


Chapter  IV 

THE  crowded,  red-roofed,  walled  town, 
with  its  spires  and  vanes  gleaming  in 
clean  air,  which  Pepys  knew  from  hi« 
earliest  childhood  and  liked  well,  has  hardly  left 
a  single  trace  of  itself,  beyond  the  intricate 
windings  and  ancient  names  of  its  streets,  in  the 
smoke-hung  city  by  which  it  has  been  overlaid. 
The  Great  Fire  destroyed  mediaeval  London  in  a 
few  days ;  but  the  renovated  London,  too,  the 
London  of  the  end  of  the  seventeenth  century, 
is,  for  any  attempt  to  picture  it  now,  hardly  less 
thoroughly  obliterated.  Certain  buildings  and 
landmarks  remain,  the  dome  of  St.  Paul's  and 
the  splendid  forest  of  Wren's  church-towers 
stand  as  they  stood  ;  but  their  effect  for  the  eye, 
their  pictorial  grouping  as  Pepys  saw  them,  has 
been  utterly  changed  in  two  centuries.     It  is 

not  merely  that  the  red  roofs  and  gables   have 

vm 


'I, 


no 


Samuel  Pepys 


vanished,  nor  even  that  the  clean  air  has  become 
thickened  and  stained.     It  is    rather    that    the 
actual  point  of  view  has  shifted  with  the  abandon- 
ment of  the  one   great  curving   majestic  street 
which  old  London  possessed,  and  which,  for  aesthe- 
tic value,  modern  London  has  done  nothing  to 
replace.     Two  hundred  years  ago    London  life 
centred   round   its   beautiful    water-way   almost 
as  much  as  that  of  Venice  itself,  and  the  Thames 
was  simply  a  wider  and  ampler    Grand  Canal. 
Its  single  bridge,  clustered  with  shops,   stood  on 
a  long  line  of  narrow  arches,  through  which  the 
piled-up  stream    poured  in  tumultuous  rapids. 
Above  and  below,  the   river  was  sprinkled  with 
boats  and  barges,  while  on  either  bank  London 
and  Southwark  faced  each  other  across  the  water, 
not  entrenched  behind    embankments  or  blank 
warehouses,  but  pushing  out  into   the  stream  a 
broken  fringe  of  dwelling-houses    and   landing- 
stages.     Higher  up,  towards  Charing  and  West- 
minster,  big  new  palaces  drew    back  from  the 
edge,  with  gardens  that  sloped  to  the  water-gate 


Samuel  Pepys 


III 


or  steps  which  formed  their  principal  approach. 
Not  picturesque,  perhaps,  as  we  understand  the 
word,  for  the  general  look  of  the  higher  reaches, 
as  of  the  lower  after  the  rebuilding  of  the  city, 
must  have  been  extremely  spruce  and  modern. 
But  the  line  of  the  river  was  what  with  its 
superb  natural  advantages  it  should  be,  the 
dominating  line  of  the  city,  towards  which  the 
whole  place  directed  its  best  effects. 

Such  was  the  unrivalled  street  which   formed 
Pepys'  most  usual  means  of  communication  be- 
tween east  and  west,  from  his  own  house  near  the 
Tower  to  Westminster,  where  his  business  or  his 
pleasure  constantly  took  him.     If  for  any  reason 
he  did  the  journey  by  land  he  says  so  expressly, 
but  it  was  always  pleasanter,  if  possible,  to  avoid 
the  dirty  and  disagreeable  lanes,   which  were  so 
much  too  small  for  the  heavy    coaches  which 
splashed  and  jolted  along  them.     At  night  they 
were    entirely    dark,    and    the    less    frequented 
quarters  were  none  too  safe.     By  day  the  busier 
streets,  though  not  convenient  for  walking,  were 


II 


I 


r ' 


r 


112 


Samuel  Pepys 


vivacious  places  to  loiter  in,  life  having  then 
much  of  that  friendly  publicity  in  its  details  of 
which  in  our  island  it  has  now  lost  the  secret. 
The  frequent  taverns  were  as  little  like  the 
modern  restaurant  as  they  were  like  the  modern 
public-house,  a  great  deal  more  genial  than  the 
one  and  equally  more  genteel  than  the  other. 
Pepys  was  familiar  with  a  large  number  of  them. 
He  habitually  took  his  "  morning  draught "  at 
some  Cock  or  Mitre^  often  dined  there,  and  often 
entertained  his  wife  or  friends  there  at  supper 
after  the  play.  First  and  last  he  spent  many 
hours  in  these  hospitable  haunts,  talking  and 
drinking  with  friends.  It  was  really  the  talk 
he  loved  more  than  the  drink,  for  he  was  by  no 
means  intemperate ;  indeed,  out  of  considera- 
tion for  health  and  pocket  he  at  different  times 
bound  himself  by  solemn  resolutions  to  abstain 
from  wine  altogether.  Yet  he  could  enjoy, 
occasionally  only  too  well,  the  sweet  spiced  and 
doctored  drinks,  the  sugared  wine  or  the  buttered 
ale  beloved  of  the  age's  untender  palate.     French, 


f 


Samuel  Pepys 


113 


Spanish,  and  German  wines  were  all  familiar, 
but  all  had  to  be  well  coarsened  before  they 
were  acceptable.  Gaming  was  also  common  at 
the  taverns,  but  this  had  no  attraction  whatever 
for  Pepys,  who  played  none  but  the  most  inno- 
cent games,  and  few  of  them.  Ninepins,  parlour 
forfeits,  and  the  like  were  enough  to  satisfy  his 
frugal  mind  in  this  respect. 

He  did,  however,  most  enthusiastically  share 
the  widespread  love  of  the  theatre  which  was 
such  a  feature  among  all  classes  of  the  people. 
The  "  King's  Company  "  under  Thomas  Killi- 
grew,  and  the  "Duke's  Company"  under  Sir 
William  Davenant,  were  performing,  during  the 
greater  part  of  the  period  covered  by  the  Diary, 
at  theatres  in  Drury  Lane  and  Lincoln's  Inn 
Fields  respectively,  and  at  both  Pepys  was  a 
constant  attendant.  Mr.  Wheatley  has  drawn  up 
a  list  of  a  hundred  and  forty-five  plays  which 
Pepys  mentions  having  seen,  many  of  them 
several  times,  ^  and  this  though  he  constantly 

^  Samuel  Pfpys  and  the  World  he  Lived  iity  Appendix  vii. 

8 


VA 


f 


114 


Samuel  Pepys 


refrained  from  going  as  often  as  he  desired,  partly 
out  of  economy,  partly  because  he  found  it  un- 
settled him  and  took  his  mind  off  his  work.  The 
theatres  had  been  suppressed  during  the  Com- 
monwealth, though  Davenant  had  been  able  to 
make  a  start  during  its  later  years  with  a  kind 
of  mixed  dramatic  entertainment.  When  they 
were  reopened  at  the  Restoration  a  great  advance 
was  made  in  their  equipment,  an  expenditure  then 
considered  profuse  being  lavished  on  wax  candles, 
scenery,  dresses,  and  music.  But  an  easy  infor- 
mality of  arrangements  still  prevailed.  "  Orange 
Moll,"  selling  her  fruit  at  6^.  apiece  and  cracking 
jokes  with  the  audience,  was  a  familiar  institution. 
Once,  when  Pepys  -was  at  the  King's  Playhouse, 
she  had  to  come  to  the  rescue  of  a  "  gentleman 
of  good  habit,"  who,  in  the  middle  of  the  play, 
choked  on  an  orange  and  "did  drop  down  as 
dead  ...  but  with  much  ado  Orange  Moll  did 
thrust  her  finger  down  his  throat,  and  brought 
him^to  life  again."  ^    A  few  weeks  later  he  notes 

1  November  2,  1667. 


Samuel  Pepys 


115 


that  at  the  same  theatre,  where  Nell  Gwynn 
was  acting,  "  it  pleased  ^us  mightily  to  see  the 
natural  affection  of  a  poor  woman,  the  mother  of 
one  of  the  children  brought  on  the  stage  :  the 
child  crying,  she  by  force  got  upon  the  stage, 
and  took  up  her  child  and  carried  it  away."^ 
When  plays  were  given  by  either  of  the  companies 
at  Whitehall,  the  performance  took  place  in  the 
evening  and  often  was  not  over  till  midnight. 
Otherwise  the  usual  time  was  three  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon,  and  if  the  play  was  a  popular  one, 
the  pit  began  to  fill  up  some  hours  beforehand. 
The  theatre  was  lit  by  daylight,  the  roof  being 
open  to  the  weather  or  at  best  very  incompletely 
glazed,  so  that  the  attention  of  the  audience 
would  often  be  distracted  by  a  fall  of  rain.  The 
prices  of  admission  to  the  pit  were  a  shilling, 
eighteenpence,  and  half-a-crown,  and  Pepys  for 
several  years  went  no  higher  than  the  first.  It 
was  not  until  1667  that  he  found  himself  for  the 
first  time  in  the  upper  boxes,  for  which  he  paid 

1  December  28,  1667. 


!':    fl 


M 


\, 


ii6 


Samuel  Pepys 


Samuel  PePys 


117 


4/.,  and  then  only  because  the  cheaper  places 
were   full.     The   crowd   in   the   pit,   'prentices, 
citizens   and   their  wives,   with   a   sprinkling  of 
men  of  fashion,  was  democratically  mixed,  but 
very  orderly.     It  was  not  such  a  fine  audience, 
perhaps,  not  such  an  overflowing  wealth  of  ripe 
and    ready     imaginations,    as    the    Elizabethan 
theatre   had   known   in   the   previous   century ; 
taste  was  less  poetical  and  less  romantic  by  this 
time.    But    people    still   knew   how   to   enjoy 
themselves     at    the    play    with    vividness    and 
enthusiasm.     The    drama    held    a     real    place 
in    their    lives,   and   they  had  a   clear  idea   of 
the  kind  of  entertainment  they  desired.    Pepys' 
criticisms  of    the  plays  he  saw  are   haphazard 
and  far  from  profound,   but  they    are    always 
spirited  ;  while  on  the  subject  of  acting  he  seems 
to  have  possessed  a  good  deal  of  real  discrimina- 
tion. 

The  neglect  of  the  great  old  dramatists  at  the 
Restoration  has  been  often  exaggerated.  Evelyn's 
remark  after  seeing  Ramlet,  that  "  the  old  plays 


\ 


begin  to  disgust  this  refined  age,"  ^  is  famous, 
but  none  the  less  we ^  find  from  Pepys  that 
Shakespeare,  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  and  Ben 
Jonson  were  constantly  being  acted,  as  well  as 
Marlowe,  Shirley,  Ford,  and  Massinger.  Pepys 
saw  at  different  times  no  less  than  eleven  of 
Shakespeare's  plays,  though  it  is  true  that  he  had 
not  much  opinion  of  them  on  the  whole.  Romeo 
and,  'Juliet^  he  pronounced,  was  the  worst  play  he 
had  ever  heard  in  his  life  ;  the  Midsummer  Nighfs 
Dream  was  "  the  most  insipid  ridiculous  play 
that  ever  I  saw";  Twelfth  Night  he  thought 
silly,  and  remarked  with  surprise  that  it  was  "  not 
related  at  all  to  the  name  or  day,"  while  Othello 
seemed  "  a  mean  thing  "  after  Tuke's  Adventures 
of  Five  Hours^  Macbeth  he  did  indeed  consider 
"  a  most  excellent  play  for  variety,"  ^  but  then 
Macbeth  had  the  advantage  of  having  been 
brought  up  to  date  by  Sir  William  Davenant, 


.^  Evelyn's  Diary,  November  26,  1661. 
*  March  i,  1662 ;    September  29,  1662  ;   January  6,  1663  > 
April  20,  1 666.  ^  December  28,  1666. 


) 


t  9 


ii8 


Samuel  Pepys 


with  new  songs  and  dances,  and  flying  machines 
for  the  witches.     The  lemfest,  which  had  re- 
ceived  similar   embellishment,   he   found   "the 
most  innocent  play  that  ever  I  saw."  ^    For  Ben 
Jonson,  however,  he  had  immense   admiration ; 
he  delighted  in  The  Alchymist  and  Every  Man  in 
his  Humour ;  The  Silent  Woman  seemed,  when  he 
saw  it,  the  best  comedy  ever  written,  though  it 
finally  had  to  give  place,  as  the  crown  of  the 
world's  achievement  in  this  respect,  to  the  Duke 
of  Newcastle's  Sir  Martin  Mar-all    These  are 
sufficiently  random  judgments ;  they  hit  or  miss 
the  mark  indifferently,  and  are  doubtless  represen- 
tative of  a  generation  which  had  not  as  yet  had 
time  to  produce  a  really  living  drama  of  its  own. 
For  the  moment  the  public  had  to  be  satisfied  with 
makeshifts,  old  or  new,  a  livelier  edition  of  Macbeth 
or  a  ponderous  adaptation  from  Comeille,  neither 
of  which  gave  any  sound  standard  for  criticism. 

But  if  good  new  plays  were  still  to  seek,  there 
already  existed  a  notable  school  of  actors,  whom 

1  November  7,  1667. 


Samuel  Pepys 


119 


the  crowd  in  the  pit,  and  Pepys  among  them, 
were    quite    capable    of    appreciating.      Acting 
was  indeed,  among  the  arts,  the  firstborn  child 
of  the  Restoration,  and  while  Dryden  was  still 
experimenting  in  the  dark,  Betterton,  Hart,  and 
Harris  were  at  their  prime.    Moreover,  the  great 
step,  unheard  of  in  Shakespeare's  time,  of  casting 
women  for  women's  parts,  had  now  been  effected. 
Early  in  1 661  Pepys  was  present  at  the  perform- 
ance of  a  comedy  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  which 
he  notes  as  being  "  the  first  time  that  ever  I  saw 
women  come  upon  the  stage,"  though  as  a  matter 
of  fact  an  actress  had  taken  part  in  Davenant's 
first  tentative  beginnings  in  1656.    The  various 
queens    of    song    and    dance  lost    no    time   in 
taking  possession  of  their  kingdom,  and  with  the 
rise  of  Nell  Gv^n  their   rule  was   established 
once  for  all.      It  was  a  cowp  d'etat   eminently 
agreeable    to    Pepys.     "  So    great   performance 
of  a  comical  part,"  he  writes,  referring  to  the 
production  of  Dryden's  Secret  Love^  "  was  never 
I    believe,    in    the    world    before    as    Nell    do 


I 


H 


II 


I20 


Samuel  Pepys 


Samuel  Pepys 


121 


this,  both  as  a  mad  girl,  then  most  and  best  of 
all  when  she  comes  in  like  a  young  gallant ;  and 
hath  the  motions  and  carriage  of  a  spark  the  most 
that  ever  I  saw  any  man  have."  ^  Another 
actress,  a  certain  Mrs.  Knipp,  of  whom  little  is 
elsewhere  heard,  was  not  only  a  great  favourite  of 
his  upon  the  stage,  but  also  a  personal  acquaint- 
ance. The  gay  manners  of  this  "  excellent,  mad- 
humoured  thing"  enlivened  various  delightful 
gatherings  at  Pepys'  own  house,  where  he  taught 
her  to  sing  "Beauty  retire"  with  entrancing 
effect.  Her  only  drawback  was  an  "  ill,  melancholy, 
jealous-looking  "  husband,  who  kept  a  disapprov- 
ing eye  upon  her  mirth.^  Among  actors  the 
great  Betterton  was  supreme,  and  Pepys'  admira- 
tion for  him  unbounded.  Perhaps  the  most 
ecstatic  of  all  his  references  to  him  is  an  account 
of  his  incomparable  performance  in  Eenry  the 
Fifth,  a  play  "  the  most  fuU  of  height  and  rap- 
tures of  wit  and  sense  that  ever  I  heard  "—written, 
as  we  discover  with  a  certain  drop  in  interest,  by 
1  March  2,  1667.  *  December  6,  8,  1665. 


Lord  Orrery  .1  His  Hamlet  (by  Shakespeare) 
was  also  notable,  and  possibly  suggested  to  Pepys 
the  valiant  idea  of  singing  "  To  be  or  not  to  be  " 
to  the  theorbo,  in  which  form  it  is  to  be  found  in 
his  manuscript  collection  of  music. 

But  a  love  of  the  theatre  has,  like  so  many 
other  amusements,  two  disadvantages  to  a  prudent 
man  :  it  is  expensive  and  it  is  distracting.  We 
may  accordingly  be  certain  that  sooner  or  later 
it  must  conflict  with  two  of  Pepys'  master- 
passions.  To  keep  his  mind  upon  his  work, 
thereby  ensuring  both  the  increase  of  his  sub- 
stance and  the  satisfaction  of  his  lively  sense  of 
duty  done,  he  devised  the  famous  system  of  vows 
and  penalties  of  which  we  hear  so  much  in  the 
Diary.  These  obligations  were  solely  between 
himself  and  his  conscience,  but  he  derived  a  good 
deal  of  support  from  them,  and  showed  the 
extent  of  his  respect  for  them  by  the  elaborate 
fineness  of  the  casuistry  he  employed  when,  as 

1  August  13,  1664. 


V 


J 


\\ 


\ 


i 


I 


122 


Samuel  Pepys 


would  sometimes  happen,  they  were  disregarded. 
One  of  the  articles  of  his  ritual  was  that  the  list 
of  oaths  should  be  read  over,  in  a  serious  frame 
of  mind,  every  Sunday.     They  were  not  officially 
chronicled  in  the  Diary,  but  for  years  the  references 
to  them  are  so  frequent  that  we  can  follow  their 
history  more  or  less  completely.     Drinking  and 
play-going   were   the    two   indulgences    chiefly 
aimed  at,  and  as  early  as  1661  we  find  him  trying 
to  deny  himself  in  these  respects.     On  Michael- 
mas Day,   1662,  he  notes  that  his  "  oaths  for 
drinking  of  wine  and  going  to  plays  are  out,  and 
so  I  do  resolve  to  take  a  liberty  to-day,  and  then 
to  fall  to  them  again."     Accordingly  he  goes  to 
see  two  plays,  the  Midsummer  Nighfs  Dream^  and 
the  Duchess  of  Malfy,  but  at  once  begins  to  find 
himself  growing  unsettled.     "Strange,"  he  ex- 
claims, "  to  see  how  easily  my  mind  do  revert 
to  its  former  practice  of  loving  plays  and  wine 
having  given  myself  a  liberty  to  them  but  these 
two  days ;    but  this  night  I  have  again  bound 
myself  to  Christmas  next,  in  which  I  desire  God 


Samuel  Pepys 


123 


to   bless   and   preserve   me."  1    This   oath   was 
broken  two  days  later,  when  he  went  to  see  7he 
Cardinally  a  play  of  Shirley's,  and  again  on  October 
20  when  he  heard  a  tragedy  by  Porter,  called  TA^f 
Villaine,  so  much  praised  by  Killigrew,  "  as  if 
there  never  had  been  any  such  play  come  upon 
the  stage,"  that  he  could  not  resist  it.     He  went, 
but  candidly  ovms  that  "  though  there  was  good 
singing  and  dancing,  yet  no  fancy  in  the  play, 
but  something  that  made  it  less  contenting  was 
my  conscience  that  I  ought  not  to  have  gone  by 
my  vow."     As  soon  as  he  got  home  he  duly 
paid  his  crown  to  the  poor-box,  "  so  no  harm 
as  to  that  is  done,  but  only  business  lost  and 
money  lost,  and  my  old  habit  of  pleasure  wakened, 
which  I  will  keep  down  the  more  hereafter,  for 
I  thank  God  these  pleasures  are  not  sweet  to  me 
now  in  the  very  enjoying  of  them."    This  time 
he  held  out  to  the  end,  with  only  one  lapse  on 
December  i,  when  he  went  to  The  Valiant  Cidd 
(translated  from  Corneille),  a  "  most  dull  thing," 

1  September   30,   1662. 


>  1 


S\ 


124 


Samuel  Pepys 


M 


It 


which  did  not  make  the  King  or  Queen  smile 
once.  At  Christmas  he  allowed  himself  two 
plays  before  renewing   his   oaths   once   more. 

As  time  went  on  Pepys  grew  very  artful  in 
fastening  on  any  loophole  of  escape  left  by  his 
self-imposed  obligations.  Every  precaution  was 
honestly  taken  to  prevent  the  old  Adam  from 
cheating  the  new,  but  it  was  sometimes  impossible 
to  foresee  all  contingencies.  For  instance,  on 
May  8,  1663,  the  baser  Pepys  observed  that 
the  newly  opened  Theatre  Royal,  Drury  Lane, 
was  not  really  under  the  ban,  not  having  been 
in  existence  when  the  vow  was  recorded, — ^and 
accordingly  hurried  ofi  to  see  The  Humerous  Lieu- 
UnanU  When  the  diary  for  the  day  came  to  be 
written  his  wiser  self  severely  pointed  out  that 
the  intention  of  the  vow,  if  not  the  actual  wording, 
had  been  against  all  theatres  of  any  sort,  and 
decreed  that  two  plays  more,  which  had  been 
admittedly  owing  to  him,  must  be  forfeited.  In 
the  celebrated  case  of  the  "  hypocras,"  the  benefit 
of  the  doubt  was,  with  some  hesitation,  allowed. 


Samuel  Pepys 


125 


The  incident  took  place  at  the  Guildhall,  where 
he  went  with  some  friends  to  see  the  preparations 
for  the  Lord  Mayor's  dinner.     "Wine  was  offered,'* 
he  writes,  "  and  they  drunk,  I  only  drinking  some 
hypocras,  which  do  not  break  my  vowe,  it  being, 
to  the  best  of  my  present  judgment,  only  a  mixed 
compound  drink,  and  not  any  wine.    If  I  am 
mistaken,  God  forgive  me  !  but  I  hope  and  do 
think  I  am  not."  ^     As  the  drink  in  question  was 
only  not  wine  in  the  sense  that  it  was  wine  with 
the  addition  of  sugar  and  spices,  it  will  be  observed 
that  the  old  Adam  knew  how  to  make  the  most 
of  his  opportunities.    The  vow  against  plays  was 
more  and  more  carefully  thought  out :   in  1664 
he  decided  that  he  would  not  "  see  above  one 
in  a  month  at  any  of  the  publique  theatres  till 
the  sum  of  SOJ.  be  spent,  and  then  none  before 
New  Year's  Day  next,  unless  that  I  do  become 
worth  j^i,ooo  sooner  than  then,  and  then  am 
free  to  come  to  some  other  terms."  *    There 
was  a  certain  latitude,  however,  even  here,  for 


I 


1  October  29,  1663. 


*  January  2,  1664. 


126 


Samuel  Pepys 


the  monthly  play  meant  one  for  his  wife  as  well  as 
for  himself,  so  that  he  could  have  two  if  he  could 
get  her  to  surrender  her  turn.     When,  later  on, 
his   eyes   began   to   trouble   him,  and   work  by 
candlelight   became   impossible,   this   stringency 
grew  gradually  relaxed,  and  less  is  heard  about 
the  necessity  of  vows.     He  made  an  attempt  to 
renew  them,  however,  in  1667,  finding  that  his 
purse  and  his  reputation  were  suffering.     The 
conditions  were  now  more  lenient— a  play  every 
other  week,— but  the  penalty  was  ^10  to  the 
poor-box  if  they  were  infringed.     He  was  only 
saved  from  losing  his  money  one  day  by  arriving 
at  the  theatre  too  late  to  find  a  place. 

Like  his  love  of  play-going,  Pepys'  still  deeper 
love  of  music  was  also  at  times  a  matter  of  some 
compunction.  The  frame  of  mind  in  which  he 
was  capable  of  being  blissfully  absorbed  by  his 
work  was  very  difficult  to  keep  up  for  long,  with 
so  many  other  interests  clamouring  for  attention  ; 
and  music,  the  most  innocent  of  them  aU,  some- 
times gave    the  most  trouble.     Now   and   then 


m 


Samuel  Pepys 


127 


he  made  an  efiort  to  resist  it,  as  when  he  refused 
to  buy  a  "  Basse  Viall "  which  Mr.  Hunt  the 
instrument-maker  pressed  upon  him,  "  because 
of  spoiling  my  present  mind  and  love  to  busi- 
ness.   1    But,  on  the  whole,  music  was  allowed  to 
have  its  way  with  him,  and  the  result  is  a  mass 
of  allusions,  scattered  over  the  whole  length  of 
the   Diary,    which  give  a   most  agreeable   pic- 
ture of   the  place  then  held  by  music  in  Eng- 
lish society.     It  was  a  higher  place,  generally 
speaking,  than  it  holds  now.     Not,  indeed,  that 
the  love  of  music  was  more  widely  spread ;   the 
difference  is  rather  that  it  seems  to  have  been 
backed  by  sounder  taste  and  knowledge.     It  is 
impossible  in  such  a  matter  to  distinguish  sum- 
marily between  cause  and  effect  ;    it  must  be 
enough  to  point  to  the  most  significant  change 
in  the  conditions  of  the  art,  the  change  from  the 
various  instruments  in  use  in  Pepys'  day  to  that 
one  which  for  domestic  purposes  has  practically 
superseded    them    all.     The    voluminous    voice 

^  April  17,  1663. 


if 


i 


128 


Samuel  Pepys 


of  the  pianoforte,  reinforced  by  that  consolation 
of  the  amateur,  the  loud  pedal,  covers  a  multitude 
of   offences   impossible   in    a    time   when    mere 
effective  splashes  of  sound  were  not  at  the  service 
of  the  performer.    The  lute,  the  viol,  and  the 
harpsichord   were  severer  trainers  of   taste.     It 
would  be  absurd  to  belittle  the  immense  debt 
which  we  nowadays  owe  to  the  piano,  but  we 
have  only  to  read  Pepys  to  see  how  we  have  paid 
for  it  in  other  ways,  in  the  loss,  for  example,  of 
any   general   sense   of   musical   structure.     The 
very  inferiority  of  the  old  instruments,  as  far  as 
richness  of  tone  was  concerned,  involved  a  double 
advantage.     In  the  first  place,  no  one  of  them 
was   supreme,   and   the   ordinary  amateur  was 
familiar  with  a  far  greater  variety  than  he  is 
likely  to  be  at  present,  so  that  a  knowledge  of 
concerted    music    was    easily    obtained.    Pepys 
himself  played  half  a  dozen  different  instruments, 
and  as  many  others  were  constantly  to  be  seen 
and  heard  in   his  own   and  his  friends'  houses. 
Amateur  music  was  thus  not  dominated  by  any 


Samuel  Pepys 


129 


single  type  of  tone  or  method  of  production, 
and  the  result  was  a  greater  flexibility  and  freedom 
of  resource.     Moreover,  in  the  second  place  there 
was  one  instrument,  while  all  the  others  were 
stiU  imperfect,  which  was  just  as  highly  developed 
then  as  now.     The  human  voice,  at  any  rate, 
was  limited  by  no  faultiness  of  construction,  and 
full  use  was  made  of  its  possibilities.     The  habit 
of  part-singing  is  a  better  guide  to  a  knowledge 
of  music  than  the  habit  of  acquiring  and  render- 
ing in  public  a  few  selected  pianoforte  pieces, 
and  Pepys,  as  we  shall  see,  never  lost  an  oppor- 
tunity of  song.     We  must  not,  indeed,  take  him  as 
representing  no  more  than  the  average  skill  of 
his  day ;    but  it  is  clear  from  many  descriptions 
that  a  good  technical  knowledge  of  the  way  in 
which  concerted  music  is  put  together  was  far 
commoner  than  it  is  now. 

Pepys  was  personally  acquainted  with  the  best 
musicians  of  the  time,  and  in  the  Diary  we  see 
him  constantly  in  the  company  of  the  group 
of   men    who   kept   up   the   English   tradition 


I 


xf 


I 


130 


Samuel  Pepys 


between  the  death  of  Henry  Lawes  (1662)  and 
the  rise  of  Purcell  (born  1658).  Matthew  Locke, 
Christopher  Gibbons,  John  Banister,  and  the 
elder  Purcell,  father  of  Henry,  were  all  his  friends, 
so  that  he  had  every  means  of  understanding  the 
course  which  music  was  taking  at  an  important 
moment  in  its  history.  The  influence  which 
Charles  H,  who  hated  the  old  English  formality, 
exerted  in  favour  of  the  livelier  French  methods 
is  well  illustrated  by  the  spirited  sketches  of  the 
young  Pelham  Humfrey  or  Humfreys  which  occur 
in  the  Diary.  Humfrey  was  a  choir-boy  in  the 
Chapel  Royal  who  showed  such  promise  of  talent 
that  the  king  sent  him  abroad  to  study  under  LuUy. 
On  his  return  in  1667  Pepys  invited  him  to  his 
house  and  gives  a  graphic  account  of  the  evening. 
"  Thence  I  away  home  .  .  .  and  there  find, 
as  I  expected,  Mr.  Caesar  and  little  Pelham 
Humphreys,  lately  returned  from  France,  and 
is  an  absolute  Monsieur,  as  full  of  form,  and  con- 
fidence, and  vanity,  and  disparages  everything, 
and  everybody's  skill  but  his  own.  ...  I  had  a 


Samuel  Pepys 


131 


good  dinner  for  them,  as  a  venison  pasty  and 
some  fowl,  and  after  dinner  we  did  play,  he  on 
the  theorbo,  Mr.  Caesar  on  his  French  lute,  and 
I  on  the  viol,  but  made  but  mean  musique,  nor 
do  I  see  that  this  Frenchman  do  so  much  wonders 
on  the    theorbo,  but  without  question  he  is  a 
good  musician,  but  his  vanity  do  offend  me."  1 
Humfrey  afterwards  became  the  master  of  the 
great  Purcell,  but  his  own  talent  did  not  reach 
maturity,  for  he  died  in  1674,  at  the  age  of  twenty- 
seven. 

Pepys  was  equally  enthusiastic  both  in  the 
theory  and  the  practice  of  music.  We  have 
seen  how  he  demanded  that  aU  his  household 
should  be  musicians,  and  he  worked  industriously 
m  extending  his  own  acquirements.  He  took 
singing  lessons,  and  we  have  an  admirably  char- 
acteristic sight  of  him  in  an  entry  of  June  30, 
1661  :  "  Hence  I  to  Graye's  Inn  Walk,  aU  alone, 
and  with  great  pleasure  seeing  the  fine  ladies 
walk  there.     Myself  humming  to  myself  (which 

^  November  15,  1667. 


S\ 


> 


l/l 


^ 


\- 


132 


Samuel  Pepys 


nowadays  is  my  constant  practice  since  I  begun 

to  learn  to  sing)  the  trillo,  and  found  by  use  that 

it  do  come  upon  me."     His  taste  for  pleasant 

things  could  hardly  be  more  felicitously  summed 

up  than  in  these  lines ;     if  we  could  choose  a 

moment  out  of  the  Diary  in  which  to  see  him 

alive,  this  would  perhaps  be  the  most  repaying. 

Almost  as  good  would  be  the  following,  when  he 

and  his  wife  were  being  shown  over  Audley  End, 

and  found  it  below  their  expectation  :    "  Only 

the  gallery  is  good,  and,  above   all  things,    the 

cellars,  where  we  went  down  and  drank  of  much 

good  liquor ;    and  indeed  the  cellars  are  fine  : 

and  here  my  wife  and  I  did  sing  to  my  great 

content,"  ^  doubtless  for  the  sake  of  the  resonance 

of  the  brick  vault.      A  more  poetical  opportunity 

occurred  late  one  summer  night,  as  he  went  by 

water  to  Deptford  :    "  There  being  no  oars  to 

carry  me,  I  was  fain  to  call  a  skuUer  that  had  a 

gentleman  already  in  it,  and  he  proved  to  be  a 

man  of  love  to  musique,  and  he  and  I  sung  to- 

1  October  8,  1667, 


Samuel  Pepys 


133 


gether  the  way  down  with  great  pleasure,  and 
an  incident  extraordinary  to  be  met  with."* 

Of  the  instruments  which  he  played  himself  the 
flageolet  was  the  one  he  loved  best ;   he  carried  it 
with   him  on   many  happy  excursions,  and  was 
always  ready  with  a  tune.     He  also  played  several 
stringed  instruments,  including  three  varieties  of 
the  viol— treble,  lyra  (or  tenor),  and  bass— the  lute, 
the  theorbo  (a  bass  lute),  and  the  guitar.    After 
long  deliberation  he  bought  a  spinet  (price  ^5), 
but  seems  to  have  wanted  it  only  that  he  might 
pick  out  chords  on  it,  and  does  not  speak  as  though 
he  could  perform  on  it  with  any  freedom.     He 
gives  incidentally  much  information  about  other 
instruments  in  vogue  and  criticizes  them  with 
perspicacity.     Such  seductive  words  as  bandore, 
cittern,  and  dulcimer  recur  from  time  to    time, 
and  of  the  oddly  named  trumpet-marine  (not  a 
trumpet  at  all,  but  a  single-stringed  instrument 
which  owed  its  sonorous  tone  to  its  long  pyramid- 
shaped  body  and  a  vibrating  bridge),  he  gives  an 

^  July  13,  1665. 


) 


134 


Samuel  Pepys 


W 


admiring  account.  The  power  which  music  had 
over  him  could  not  be  more  vividly  expressed 
than  in  the  following  most  characteristic  sentence, 
from  a  description  of  a  performance  of  The  Virgin 
Martyr^  a  tragedy  by  Massinger  and  Dekker  : 
"  But  that  which  did  please  me  beyond  anything 
in  the  whole  world  was  the  wind-musique  when 
the  angel  comes  down,  which  is  so  sweet  that  it 
ravished  me,  and  indeed,  in  a  word,  did  wrap  up 
my  soul  so  that  it  made  me  really  sick,  just  as  I 
have  formerly  been  when  in  love  with  my  wife ; 
that  neither  then,  nor  all  the  evening  going  home, 
and  at  home,  I  was  able  to  think  of  anything,  but 
remained  all  night  transported,  so  as  I  could  not 
believe  that  ever  any  musick  hath  that  real  com- 
mand over  the  soul  of  a  man  as  this  did  upon  me  : 
and  makes  me  resolve  to  practice  wind  musique, 
and  to  make  my  wife  do  the  like."  ^ 

Pepys  had  before  this  begun  to  study  composi- 
tion. Early  in  1662  he  took  his  first  lesson  in  the  art 
from  John  Berkenshaw,  an  Irishman,  mentioned  in 

*  February  27,  1668. 


Samuel  Pepys 


135 


Evelyn's  Diary  (August  3,  1664)  as  a  "  rare  artist 
who  invented  a  mathematical  way  of  composure 
very  extraordinary,  true  as  to  the  exact  rules  of 
art,  but  without  much  harmonic."  This  hardly 
sounds  an  inspiring  influence ;  none  the  less, 
after  no  more  than  a  month's  study  Pepys  began 
to  compose  songs,  the  first  being  "  Gaze  not  on 
Swans,"  a  poem  by  Noel,  which  had  already 
been  set  by  Henry  Lawes.  Pepys'  version  of  this 
has  disappeared,  and  his  next  song,  the  famous 
"  Beauty  retire,"  was  not  written  until  three  years 
later.  During  the  interval  he  tried  intermittently 
to  free  himself  from  his  "  old  dotage  "  on  music, 
but  towards  the  end  of  1665  we  find  him  once 
more  absorbed  in  the  delights  of  composition. 
On  December  9  he  sang  the  new  song  to  his  musical 
friend  Mr.  Hill,  who  liked  it,  "  only  excepts 
against  two  notes  in  the  base."  Of  this  song 
a  copy  fortunately  survives  in  the  Pepysian 
Library  at  Magdalene.  The  words  were  taken 
from  the  second  part  of  Davenant's  ^iege  of 
Rhodes^  where  Solyman  addresses  Roxolana — 


I? 


i 


\} 


\ 


'I 


Ml 


I 


136 


Samuel  Pepys 


f   :: 


(1 


Beauty  retire ;  thou  dost  my  pitty  more, 
Believe  my  phty,  and  then  trust  my  love. 

Att  first  I  thought  her  by  our  Prophet  sent. 

As  a  reward  for  valour's  toiles, 

More  worth  than  all  my  Father's  spoiles  • 
.But  now  shee  is  become  my  punishment ; 
But  Thou  art  just,  O  Pow'r  divine. 

With  new  and  painful  arts 

Of  studied  war  I  breake  the  hearts 
Of  halfe  the  world,  and  shee  breakes  mine. 

Pepys'  setting  is  a  piece  of  grave  and  effective 
declamation,  in  which  the  movement  of  the  voice 
is  skUfuUy  fitted  to  the  accent  of  the  words.     The 
manner  was  one  popular  at  the  time,  dramatic 
rather  than  lyrical,  the  manner,  not  so  much  of  a 
song,  as  of  an  excerpt  from  an  opera,  in  which 
melody  was  less  considered  than  appropriateness  of 
colour.   On  these  lines  Pepys'  second  attempt  at 
composition  was  highly  successful.     He  taught  it 
to  two  actresses,  Mrs.  Knipp  and  Mrs.  Coleman, 
and  some  months  later  the  former  told  him  thai 
it  was  «  mightily  cried  up,"  which  made  the 
composer  justly  proud.     By  that  time  he  had 
almost  finished  a  new  song,  which  he  considered 


I 

) 


Samue/  Pepys 


137 


better  than  the  first.    This  was  a  setting  of  Ben 
Jonson's  words 

It  is  decreed— nor  shall  thy  fate,  O  Rome, 
Resist  my  vow,  though  hiUs  were  set  on  hiUj. 

The  air  of  this  cost  him  a  great  deal  of  trouble 
and  it  was  only  after  weeks  of  work  that  he  was 
finaUy  satisfied.    Even  then  he  could  not  please 
himself  with  the  accompaniment,  and  had  to  get 
John  Kingston,  the  organist,  to  write  a   bass. 
This  was  the  last  of  Pepys'  compositions  so  far 
as  the  years  of  the  Diary  are  concerned.     But 
te  spent  a  good  deal  of  time  and  thought  upon 
the  theory  of  music,  though  the  line  which  his 
speculations    took    is    not    very    clear.    "This 
confirms  me,"  he  writes  after  a  conversation  with 
Mr.  Kingston, « that  it  is  only  want  of  an  ingenious 
man  that  is  master  in  musique,  to  bring  musique 
to    a    certainty,    and    ease    in    composition."* 
Perhaps  he  himself  might  be  that  ingenious  man ; 
at  any  rate  we  find  him  a  few  weeb  later  resolving 
to  "go  on  and  make  a  scheme  and  theory  of 

*  December  10,  1667. 


r 


h" 


I 


Vl 


138 


Samuel  Pepys 


( 


musique  not  ever  yet  made  in  the  world."  i  He 
seems  to  have  been  in  search  of  a  new  method  of 
notation,  for  later  on  he  spends  an  evening  in 
making  Tom,  his  boy,  "  prick  down  some  Httle 
conceits  and  notions  of  mine,  in  musique,  which 
do  mightily  encourage  me  to  spend  some  more 
thoughts  about  it ;  for  I  fancy,  upon  good  reason, 
that  I  am  in  the  right  way  of  unfolding  the 
mystery  of  this  matter,  better  than  ever  yet."  » 

We  do  not  know  what  result  these  experiments 
may  have  had,  but  we  must  not  suppose  them  to 
have  been  fantastic  or  unpractical.  Pepys'  in- 
stinct in  musical  matters  was  sound  and  good. 
His  judgment  of  plays,  like  his  judgment  of  people, 
was  erratic.  But  in  music  he  praised  or  blamed 
less  irresponsibly,  and  had  clear  reasons  to  give 
for  his  preferences.  His  views  on  the  importance, 
in  composing  vocal  music,  of  giving  the  words 
their  proper  value,  show  that  he  understood  the 
advance  which  the  school  of  Lawes  had  made  in 
that  direction.     His  sensitiveness  in  this  matter 


1  March  29,  1668. 


2  January  11,  1669. 


Samuel  Pepys 


139 


was  indeed  very  acute.     He  held,  for  example, 
that    it    was    impossible     to    criticize     foreign 
vocal  music  without  a  knowledge  of  the  language 
for    which   it    was    written,    music    to    which 
words  are  to  be  sung  being  rightly  affected  by 
national    differences    of    stress    and    intonation. 
He  even  carried  his  particularity  to  the  point  of 
declaring  that  concerted  singing,  where  the  parts 
moved  unevenly,  was  a  mistake,  inasmuch  as,  the 
words  being  lost,  the  voices  were  not  given  their 
proper    function,    but    were    treated    simply   as 
musical  instruments.^     This  may  be  an  exaggera- 
tion, but  his  views  show  considerable  insight  into 
the  nature  of  song.    His  choice  of  solid  and  digni- 
fied words  for  his  own  compositions  is  yet  another 
instance  of  the  justice  of  his  taste. 

Love-making,  play-going,  and  music  formed 
in  Pepys'  life  the  main  constellation  of  pleasure. 
The  crowd  of  smaller  delights  which  surrounded 
them  and  filled  up  every  unoccupied  moment 
defy  enumeration.   He  could  go  nowhere,  he  could 

^  February  16,  September  15,  1667. 


c 


If 


(I 


«1   ' 


'/ 


I  ^ 


140 


Samuel  Pepys 


make  no  fresh  acquaintance,  he   could  meet  no 
friend,  without  a  whole  crop  of  experiences  which, 
in  his  perpetual  phrase,  «  do  please  me  mightily."' 
They    throng  in  his    Diary  with    a    breathless 
profusion  that  stops  for  neither  style  nor  grammar. 
"  A  great  deal  of  company,'^  he  writes  of  a  visit  to 
Vauxhall,  "  and  the  weather  and  garden  pleasant  : 
that  it  is  very  pleasant  and  cheap  going  thither, 
for  a  man  may  go  to  spend  what  he  wiU,   or 
nothing,  aU  is  one.     But  to  hear  the  nightingale 
and  other  birds,  and  here  fiddles,  and  there  a  harp, 
and  here  a  Jew's  trump,  and  here  laughing,  and 
there  fine  people  walHng,  is  mightily  divertising."  1 
A  pretty  woman  or  an    eloquent    preacher,  an 
ingenious    method    of    measuring   timber    or   a 
chance  talk  with  a  one-eyed   Frenchman,  a   new 
periwig  or  a  new  book,  a  nightingale  or  a  Jew's 
trump,  it  was  all  one  to  Pepys.     Each  was  a  fresh 
jewel  of  remembrance,  not  a  thing  to  hnger  over 
and  regret,  for  there  were  a  hundred  others  to  take 
its  place,  but  yet  a  thing  which  must  imperatively 

^  May  28,  1667. 


Samuel  Pepys 


141 


be  preserved.      He  dances  for  the  first  time  in 
his  life,  and  wonders  to  see  himself  do   it.     He 
dines  off  a  brave  collar  of  brawn.    He  pays  a  visit  to 
the  Mint  and  masters  the  whole  process  of  coining 
money.    He  buys  a  watch  and  laughs  at  his  child- 
ishness when  he  finds  he  cannot  help  carrying 
it  in  his  hand  the  whole  afternoon.    He  shaves 
himself  for  the  first  time,  and  with  such  ease 
that  this  too  pleases  him  mightily.     No  informa- 
tion comes  amiss :   he  makes  one  friend  tell  him 
about  the  art  of  gardening,  and  another  about  the 
"  principles  of  Optickes  "  ;   with  another  he  can 
only  say  that  he  discoursed  "  of  most  things  of 
a  man's  life,"  and  we  can  believe  it.     Some  one 
gives  him  some  joiner's  tools,  and  he  has  a  cup- 
board made  for  them,  "  which  will  be  very  hand- 
some."   He    carries    a    "perspective    glass"    to 
church,    and   entertains    himself   by   gazing   up 
and  down  the  congregation  at  a  great  many  very 
fine  women.    He  is  shown  a  mummy,  a  thing 
he  had  never   seen  before,    "and   therefore   it 
pleased   me   much,   though  an  ill   sight."    He 


\ 


\ 


)h 


142 


Samuel  PePys 


watches  his  coach  being  cleaned  and  oiled,  and 
hears  some  poor  people  "  call  their  fat  child  Punch, 
which  pleased  me  mightily,  that  word  being  become 
a  word  of  common  use  for  all  that  is  thick  and 
short."  He  was  easily  worried  by  anxieties  of 
all  kinds,  his  health,  his  work,  his  family ;  by  these 
his  joy  in  life  was  sometimes  clouded.  But  never 
for  one  moment  was  it  clouded  by  fatigue.  He 
might  be  vexed  and  exasperated,  but  it  was 
impossible  for  him  to  be  bored. 

It  does  not  appear  that  he  was  much  given  to 
reading,  at  any  rate  during'the  years  of  the  Diary, 
though  he  was  already  beginning  to  form  the  col- 
lection of  books  which  his  college  now  possesses. 
For  certain  solid  works,  such  as  Fuller's  Church 
History^  he  had  a  great  respect,  and  he  occasion- 
ally speaks  of  having  passed  the  evening  in  read- 
ing something  of  the  kind.  Plays,  indeed,  he 
read  freely,  but  poetry  other  than  dramatic  he 
cared  little  for.  He  kept  up  his  Latin,  too,  and 
read  French  with  ease.  But  he  was  more  of  a  col- 
lector than  a  reader.    He  liked  to  see  his  books 


Samuel  Pepys 


143 


neatly  ranged  behind  the  glass  doors  of  the  two  oak 
presses  to  which  he  at  first  designed  to  restrict 
his  library.     He  wished  to  make  it  the  model  ot 
what   a   gentleman's   collection   should  be.    He 
once   bought   "  an  idle,  rogueish  book,"   called 
"  L'escholle  des  filles,"  for  the  pleasure  of  read- 
ing it ;  but  took  care  to  buy  it "  in  plain  binding, 
avoiding  the  buying  of  it  better  bound,  because  I 
resolve  as  soon  as  I  have  read  it,  to  burn  it,  that  it 
may  not  stand  in  the  list  of  books,  nor  among  them, 
to  disgrace  them  if  it  should  be  found."  1    When 
he   bought   books   expressly  for   his   library  his 
selection  was  more  circumspect.    On  one  such 
occasion,  having  resolved  to  spend  two  or  three 
pounds  in  this  way,  he  describes  how  he  sat  for 
hours    in    the    bookseller's    shop,    "calling   for 
twenty  books  to  lay  this  money  out  upon,"  and 
resisting  the  temptation  to  buy  "  books  of  pleasure, 
as  plays,  which  my  nature  was  most  earnest  in."  « 
Finally  he  chose  worthy  and  respectable  books, 
"all   of  good   use   or   serious   pleasure,"   which 

1  February  8,  1668.  2  December  10,  1665. 


V 


If 


I 


/ 


7 

IK- 


fi 


144 


Samuel  Pepys 


should  do  credit  to  his  shelves.  A  large  part  of 
the  excitement  of  possessing  a  library,  it  is  need- 
less to  say,  was  the  arrangement  and  numbering 
and  cataloguing  of  it,  in  which  his  wife  was  allowed 
to  help  him.  But  though  various  books  men- 
tioned in  the  Diary  are  to  be  identified  in  the 
library  as  it  now  exists  at  Magdalene,  the  bulk 
of  the  collection  belongs  to  later  days,  when  he 
had  more  leisure  and  more  money  to  spend  upon 
it. 

If  there  was  little  poetry  in  Pepys'  nature, 
of  religion,  in  any  intimate  sense,  there  certainly 
was  no  more.  A  lively  sense  of  gratitude  to 
Heaven  for  favours  bestowed  never,  indeed, 
deserted  him.  An  unexpected  present  of  plate, 
an  opportunity  of  besting  a  rival,  or  an  increase 
in  the  year's  balance,  he  regarded  as  direct 
signs  that  he  was  being  watched  with  approval 
from  above.  This  attitude  is  ingenuously  shown 
in  an  outburst  of  thankfulness  which  occurs  in 
the  midst  of  a  certain  very  enjoyable  time,  when 
among  other  causes  of  satisfaction  the  match  be- 


Samuel  Pepys 


145 


tween  Sandwich's  daughter  and  Carteret  had  been 
just  brought  to  a  successful  conclusion,  the  whole 
circle  of  delight  being  made  only  the  more  vivid 
by    the    fact    that    the  Plague    was    meanwhile 
raging   with   increasing   violence.     "  Methinks," 
exclaims  Pepys,  "  if  a  man  would  but  reflect  upon 
this,  and  think  that  aU  these  tHngs  are  ordered 
by  God  Almighty  to  make  me  contented,  and 
even  this  very  marriage  now  on  foot  is  one  of  the 
things  intended  to  find  me  content  in,  in  my  life 
and  matter  of  mirth,  methinks  it  should   make 
one  mightily  more  satisfied  in  the  world  than  he 
IS."  1  Sandwich's  comment  upon  this  view  of  his 
daughter's    marriage    might    have    been    worth 
hearing.     The  habit  of  thus  appropriating  the 
impartial  gifts  of  Providence  is  evidence,  at  any 
rate,  of  Pepys'  ecstatic  enjoyment  of  them,  if 
rot  the  mark  of  a  pecuHarly  spiritual  humihty. 
But  Pepys'  creed,  rudimentary  though  it  might 
be,  was  perfectly  sincere.     It  included  a  respect 
for  rehgious  observances  which,  though  it  cer- 

^  July  26,  1665. 


'r 


s 


10 


1 


•    t 


146 


Samuel  Pepys 


tainly  weakened  with  the  increasing  laxity  round 
him,  remained  strong  enough  to  take  him  regu- 
larly to  church,  and  usually  to  make  him  feel  com- 
fortable and  virtuous  when  he  was  there.  In  this, 
as  elsewhere,  it  is  hard  on  Pepys  that  we  should 
be  able  to  dissect  his  motives  so  minutely.  He 
suffers  from  his  sincerity  in  recording  the  mean 
ingredients  to  be  found  in  the  most  worthy 
impulses,  and  we  might  easily  argue  him  out  of 
all  credit  for  his  religious  practices.  He  undoubt- 
edly appreciated  the  official  pew  which  the 
members  of  th^  Navy  Board  occupied  at  St. 
Olave's,  Hart  Street,  no  less  than  the  oppor- 
tunities of  merry  adventure  which  he  some- 
times found  among  the  women  of  the  congrega- 
tion when  he  attended  other  churches  unofficially. 
He  also  enjoyed  spending  a  Sunday  morning  in 
slipping  in  and  out  of  a  dozen  different  churches, 
listening  to  a  dozen  different  sermons,  a  little 
here  and  a  little  there — ^just  as  he  enjoyed  sleep- 
ing through  a  single  one.  For  all  that  he  truly 
reverenced   the   serene   sense   that  things  were, 


Samuel  Pepys 


147 


on  the  whole,  ordered  well  for  the  Clerk  of  the 

Acts,  and  that  honesty  was  profitable  in  both 

worlds,  which   he   called   his  religion.    He   was 

a  materialist  to  the  backbone,  but  his  belief   in 

the   religious  character    of  his  materialism  was 

unshakable.    It  must    be    counted    to   him   for 

righteousness  that  he   knew  how   to  enjoy   the 

things  which  he  prized.    To   us,  as  we  watch 

him,  there  may  seem  to  be  something  more  hke 

religion  in  his  ever-fresh  delight  in  the  world 

than  in  his  complacent  orthodoxy. 

We  return,  indeed,  again  and  again  to  Pepys' 
amazing  power  of  extracting  pleasure,  and  no- 
thing but  pleasure,  out  of  every  part  of  life. 
To  crown  the  list  of  "  things  that  do  please  me 
mightily  "  let  us  quote  his  description  of  a  walk 
on  Epsom  Downs  which  he  took,  one  July  after- 
noon, with  his  wife  and  two  or  three  other  com- 
panions— 

"  So  the  women  and  W.  Hewer  and  I  walked 
upon  the  Downes,  where  a  flock  of  sheep  was  ; 
and  the  most  pleasant  and  innocent  sight  that  ever 


X 


148 


Samuel  Pepys 


I  saw  in  my  life — we  find  a  shepherd  and  his 
little  boy  reading,  far  from  any  houses  or  sight  of 
people,  the  Bible  to  him ;  so  I  made  the  boy 
read  to  me,  which  he  did,  with  the  forced  tone 
that  children  do  usually  read,  that  was  mighty 
pretty,  and  then  I  did  give  him  something,  and 
went  to  the  father,  and  talked  with  him ;  and 
I  find  he  had  been  a  servant  in  my  cozen 
Pepys'  house,  and  told  me  what  was  become 
of  their  old  servants.  He  did  content  himself 
mightily  in  my  liking  his  boy's  reading,  and 
did  bless  God  for  him,  the  most  like  one  of 
the  old  patriarchs  that  ever  I  saw  in  my  life, 
and  it  brought  those  thoughts  of  the  old  age 
of  the  world  in  my  mind  for  two  or  three 
days  after.  We  took  notice  of  his  woolen  knit 
stockings  of  two  colours  mixed,  and  of  his  shoes 
shod  with  iron  shoes,  both  at  the  toe  and  heels, 
and  with  great  nails  in  the  soles  of  his  feet,  which 
was  mighty  pretty  :  and,  taking  notice  of  them, 
*  Why,'  says  the  poor  man,  *  the  downes,  you 
see,  are  full  of  stones,  and  we  are  faine  to  shoe 


Samuel  Pepys 


149 


ourselves  thus ;  and  these,'  says  he,  '  wiU  make 
the  stones  fly  till  they  sing  before  me.'  I  did 
give  the  poor  man  something,  for  which  he  was 
mighty  thankful,  and  I  tried  to  cast  stones  with 
his  home  crooke.  He  values  his  dog  mightily, 
that  would  turn  a  sheep  any  way  which  he  would 
have  him,  when  he  goes  to  fold  them  :  told  me 
there  was  about  eighteen  scoare  sheep  in  his  flock, 
and  that  he  hath  four  shilhngs  a  week  the  year 
round  for  keeping  of  them  :  so  we  posted  thence 
with  mighty  pleasure  in  the  discourse  we  had  with 
this  poor  man,  and  Mrs.  Turner,  in  the  common 
fields  here,  did  gather  one  of  the  prettiest  nose- 
gays  that  ever  I  saw  in  my  life."  1 

And  this  is  Pepys,  the  dissolute,  the  greedy, 
the  selfish,  the  unimaginative.  Some  years  before 
he  had  spent  a  Sunday  morning  in  trying  to  com- 
pose "  a  song  in  the  praise  of  a  HberaU  genius 
(as  I  take  my  own  to  be)  to  aU  studies  and  plea- 
sures " ;  2  and  when  we  see  the  perennial  eagerness 

*  July  14,  1667. 

•  November  3,  i66i. 


\ 


150 


Samuel  Pepys 


which  he  brought  to  the  enjoyment  of  every  day 
of  his  life  and  to  all  varieties  of  experience,  we 
can  only  agree  that  his  estimate  of  himself  was 
no  more  than  just. 


V 


i^ 


/' 


X    ! 


Chapter  V 

THE  Navy  Board  of  the  Restoration  had 
charge  of  all  civil  business  connected 
with  the  navy,  and  was  quite  distinct 
from  the  office  of  the  Lord  High  Admiral.  Later 
on,  as  the  Admiralty  grew  in  importance,  the  civil 
office  was  gradually  merged  into  it,  though  not 
finally  abolished  until  the  reconstitution  of  the 
whole  department  early  in  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury. The  mark  which  Pepys'  ability  left  upon  its 
organization  also  endured  until  then.  His  memory 
lived  on  at  the  Navy  Office  after  his  death  for  the 
century  during  which  his  present  fame  was  shut 
up  in  six  volumes  of  undecipherable  manuscript 
in  his  library  at  Magdalene. 

Pepys  had  that  hall-mark  of  the  born  official, 
an  absolute  confidence  in  his  power  of  doing  his 
own  work,  and  the  desire  to  do  it  without  in- 
terference from  other  people.    He  wanted  no 


152 


Sajuuel  Pepys 


help  from  any  one,  and  would  sooner  undertake 
the  work  of  the  whole  office  than  allow  any  of  his 
colleagues  to  meddle  with  his.     He  had  the  defect 
of  his  qualities  in  this  respect.     He  not  only  felt 
equal  to  his  own  task,  but  he  also  felt  perfectly 
certain  that  the  other  members  of  the  Board 
were  one  and  all  quite  unequal  to  theirs.     Doubt- 
less he  was   not  so  entirely  unrestrained  in   his 
contempt  for  them  when  he  was  in  their  presence 
as  he  was  when  he  was  writing  his  Diary,  but  his 
sentiments  could  not  be  altogether  disguised.     He 
was  accused,  not  without  reason,  of  working  for 
his  own  hand,  to  gain  favour  with  the  King  and 
the   Duke   of   York.      His   devouring  industry, 
moreover,  raised  the  standard    of    what  might 
be  expected  from  the  Board  in  general ;  so  that, 
on  all  accounts,  it  was  unlikely  that  the  other 
members  would  look  on  him  with  favour.     But 
Pepys,  whose  value  was  soon  recognized  by  the 
Duke,  was  before  long  in  a  position  to  disregard 
their  jealousy.     It  did  not,  after  all,  matter  from 
the  Duke's  point  of  view  whether  his  motives 


Samuel  Pepys 


153 


were  chiefly  selfish  or  patriotic;    there  was  no 
doubt  about  the  good  quality  of  his  worL 

The  Board  consisted,  as  we  have  seen,  of  a 
Treasurer,  a  Comptroller,  a  Surveyor,  the  Qerk 
of  the  Acts,  and  a  certain  number  of  additional 
Commissioners.    The  Duke  of  York,  as  Lord  High 
Admiral,   issued    revised    Instructions,    early  in 
1662,  determining  the  functions  of  the  diflFerent 
officers.     Pepys'   duties   were   partly  secretarial, 
partly  those   of   accountant.     He   started   with 
httle  or  no  knowledge  of  the  work  and  a  very 
imperfect  gift  for  figures.     But  he  was  quite  ready 
to   begin   from   the   beginning.    He   engaged  a 
mathematical  tutor  toteachhim  the  multiplication 
table,  and  with  this  much  preparation  he  set  to 
work  to  master  the  intricacies  of   his  business. 
His  position  gave  him  every  opportunity  of  obtain- 
ing an  insight  into  the  management  of  the  navy 
in  aU  its  details,  and  the  more  he  saw  the  more 
incisive  became  his  criticisms  of  the  foUy  and 
incapacity  of  his  colleagues. 
To  judge  from  the  Diary,  it  would  seem  that. 


154 


Samuel  Pepys 


) 


with  the  exception  of  Pepys  himself,  the  Board 
was  filled  at  this  time  with  a  set  of  picked  scoun- 
drels and  imbeciles.  The  Treasurer,  Sir  George 
Carteret,  comes  off  reasonably  well;  after  the 
marriage  of  his  son  with  Sandwich's  daughter 
he  is  even  credited  with  honesty  and  a  pleasant 
humour;  but  before  that  there  are  many  dis- 
paraging comments  on  his  ignorance  and  ineffi- 
ciency. Sir  John  Minnes,  the  Comptroller,  was 
excellent  company,  a  good  mimic,  a  judge  of  art 
and  letters,  but  in  his  official  capacity  he  was 
beneath  contempt,  at  any  rate  beneath  Pepys'. 
He  is  called  an  old  coxcomb,  a  doting  fool, 
"  nothing  but  a  jester  or  a  ballad-maker."  The 
Surveyor,  Sir  William  Batten,  is  habitually 
referred  to  as  a  corrupt  and  underhand  knave,  till 
death  removed  him  in  1667.  Sir  William  Penn, 
one  of  the  Commissioners,  the  father  of  William 
Penn  the  Quaker,  is  also  lashed  with  these  and 
similar  epithets.  He  is  a  hypocrite,  a  coward,  a 
knave,  a  counterfeit  rogue.  The  very  dishes 
which  he  set  before  the  Clerk  of  the  Acts  for 


Samuel  Pepys 


155 


supper  one  evening  were  "  so  deadly  foule  that  I 
could  not  endure  to  look  upon  them."  ^  He  and 
Batten  are  again  and  again  alluded  to  as  "  our 
two  doting  knights."  Penn  was,  however,  well 
regarded  by  the  Duke,  and  was  successful  at  sea 
in  the  Dutch  war.  Pepys'  gift  for  vituperation 
certainly  ran  away  with  him  in  this  case.  Lord 
Brouncker,  another  of  the  Commissioners,  was 
a  celebrated  mathematician  and  the  first  Pre- 
sident of  the  Royal  Society ;  also,  according  to 
Pepys,  "  a  rotten-hearted,  false  man  as  any  else  I 
know,  even  as  Sir  W.  Penn  himself."  >  Lord 
Berkeley  was  "  the  most  hot,  fiery  man  in  dis- 
course, without  any  cause,  that  ever  I  saw " ;  • 
while  Commissioner  Pett,  whose  special  charge 
was  the  Chatham  Dockyard,  was  a  very  knave, 
who  deserved  to  be  hanged. 

It  cannot  be  said  that  these  wholesale  vilifi- 
cations were  due  to  jealousy,  for  they  continue 
long   after    Pepys'    position   was    assured.     But 

*  January  17,  1664,  *  January  29,  1667. 

'  December  2,  1664.. 


156 


Samuel  Pepys 


neglect,    carelessness,    inexactitude    in    business, 
at  all  times  affected  him  with  exasperation,  and 
appeared  to  his  excited  mind  as  deliberate  roguery 
and  deceit.    Of  all  the  officers  with  whom  he  was 
brought  into  contact.  Sir  William  Coventry,  the 
Secretary  to  the  Lord  High  Admiral,  is  the  only 
one  who  is  never  referred  to  with  disrespect. 
He  is  spoken  of  as  a  man  of  real  worth  and  nobility, 
and  Pepys  is  gratified  to  have  his  approval,  still 
more   his    good    offices    with    the    Duke.    The 
latter,  indeed,  he  took  the  precaution  to  secure 
in  early  days  by  the  present  of  a  "  state  dish  and 
cup   in   chased   work,"    costing  over   ^19.    In 
modern  speech  this  would  no  doubt  be  called  a 
bribe  ;  but  the  most  censorious  could  then  hardly 
call  it   more  thafi  a  piece  of  natural   courtesy, 
and  among  the  most  censorious  in  these  matters 
was  Pepys  himself.     As  Clerk  of  the  Acts  he,  in 
his  turn,  soon  became  the  object  of  many  such 
courtesies.    He   allowed   his   plate-cupboard   to 
be  enriched  by  sail-makers,  slop-sellers  and  the 
like ;  but  the  time  came  when  with  honourable 


Samuel  Pepys 


157 

integrity  he  preferred  to  refuse  their  presents, 
^'  resolving  not  to  be  bribed  to  despatch  business."^ 
His  code  allowed  him  to  receive  tokens  of  gratitude 
for  benefits  conferred  in  the  ordinary  way  of 
business,  but  not  to  sell  such  benefits  at  the  expense 
of  efficiency.  It  is  true  that,  ingenuous  as  ever, 
he  sometimes  carefully  explains  that  he  refused 
a  particular  present  partly  because  he  did  not 
think  those  who  offered  it  "  safe  men  to  receive 
such  a  gratuity  from."  a  But  we  know  his  way 
of  giving  equal  emphasis  both  to  the  worthy  and 
to  the  unworthy  motives  which  prompted  him ; 
and  his  standard  was  so  unusually  high  for  his 
times  that  it  is  only  just  to  be  less  impartial. 

The  truth  is  that  in  his  official  capacity  he 
was  energetic  and  conscientious  to  a  degree  that 
would  have  marked  him  out  in  the  purest  of 
ages.  He  identified  himself  heart  and  soul  with 
his  work,  as  though  out  of  his  office  he  were  not 
doing  precisely  the  same  with  a  dozen  other  in- 
terests.    He  searched  out  the  minutest  details, 

1  August  7,  1665.  2  February  5,  1667. 


158 


Samuel  Pepys 


\\ 


t 


he  acquainted  himself  with  all  manner  of  technical 
information,  he  was  assiduous  in  visiting  the  docks 
at  Chatham,   Woolwich,   Deptford,  and  Ports- 
mouth.    Wherever  there  was  room  for  abuse  or 
an  opportunity  of  what  he  called  "  cheating  the 
King,"  he  set  himself  to  see  that  the  public 
money    was    properly    accounted    for.       Small 
wonder  that  he  rapidly  reached  the  confidence 
of  the  Duke,  that  he  was  not  on  good  terms  with 
his  more  easy-going  colleagues,  or  that  he  earned 
the  courteous  attentions  of  tradesmen  and  contrac- 
tors.   So  much  as  he  could  do  was  thoroughly  well 
done.    But   the   effectiveness   of   his   work  was 
constantly    interfered     with    by    circumstances 
beyond  his  control.    The  continual  shortage  of 
money  for  the  fleet,  which  at  every  turn  ham- 
pered the  work  of  the  Navy  Board,  was  largely 
due  to  a  deadlock  between  the  House  of  Commons 
and  the  King.     It  was  not  so  much  that  the  coun- 
try could  not  ailord  it,  as  that  Parliament  grudged 
supplies  which  Charles,  when  he  got  them,  always 
preferred  to  lavish  on  Lady  Castlemaine  rather 


Samuel  Pepys 


159 


than   on   the   public   services.    Their   suspicion 
of  the  King  resulted  in  the  starvation  of  the 
fleet  during  the  years  in  which  Pepys  was  coming 
to  the  front.    When  the  Dutch  war  broke  out  in 
1665,  money  was  indeed  forthcoming,  but  it  came 
too  late  to  be  properly  effective,  and  was  saddled 
with  demands  for  inquiry  and  investigation  which 
had  to  be  attended  to  in  the  middle  of  hostiHties. 
In  a  surprisingly  short  time  the  needy  relative 
and  factotum  of  Lord  Sandwich  thus  arrived  at 
dignity  and   substance.     The   dignity  was   for 
the  world,  and  was  not  allowed  to  trouble  him  in 
his  hours  of  privacy.    The  substance,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  steadily  accumulating  hundreds  which 
ran  so  smoothly  into  thousands,  formed  a  mat- 
ter for  satisfaction  which  he  kept  as  far  as  pos- 
sible to  himself.    He  wished  his  house  and  manner 
of  life  to  be  handsome  in  its  appointments,  but 
he  would  give  no  one  the  opportunity  of  caUing 
him  extravagant  or  fond  of  display.     Year  by  year 
his   position   became  further  consolidated.      In 
1662  he  was  sworn  in  as  a  Younger  Brother  of 


i6o 


Samuel  Pepys 


the  Trinity  House,  while  his  business  capacities 
were  :fecognized  by  his  appointment  to  the  Com- 
mission for  inspecting  the  "  Chest,"  a  fund  origin- 
ally instituted  by  Drake  for  the  relief  of  wounded 
men,  which  had  been  mismanaged  and  abused. 
In  the  same  year  he  was  made  a  member  of  the 
Commission  for  the  management  of  the  affairs  of 
Tangier,  a  town  which  was  part  of  the  dowry  of 
Charles  IPs  unfortunate  little  Portuguese  queen. 
Povy,  the  Treasurer  of  this  Commission,  involved 
the  accounts  in  such  confusion  that  three  years 
later  Pepys  was  put  in  his  place.  Meanwhile,  in 
1664  he  was  made  an  assistant  to  the  "  Corpora- 
tion of  the  Royal  Fishery  "  which  had  just  been 
appointed,  the  Duke  of  York  being  Governor, 
with  thirty-two  assistants,  some  of  them  **  very 
great  persons."  In  1665,  after  the  outbreak  of 
the  Dutch  War,  he  was  appointed  Surveyor- 
General  of  the  Victualling  Office,  which,  he  writes 
(October  27),  "  do  make  me  joyful  beyond  myself 
that  I  cannot  express  it,  to  see  that  as  I  do  take 
pains,  so  God  blesses  me,  and  hath  sent  me  masters 


Samuel  Pepys 


161 

that  do  observe  that  I  take  pains."  He  was  now 
a  rich  man ;  but  there  was  no  relaxation  of  his 
habits  of  economy,  and  it  was  not  until  1668  that 
with  much  hesitation  he  allowed  himself  the 
luxury  of  a  carriage. 

The  year  1665  was  one  of  great  excitement  and 
eventfulness  for  the  Clerk  of  the  Acts,  as  well  as 
for  the  nation.     The  world-wide  rivalry  of  the 
merchants  of  England  and  Holland  had    culmi- 
nated  in  the  seizure  by  the  English  of  the  Dutch 
colonies  in  America,  and  war  was  eagerly  demanded 
upon  both  sides.     Early  in  the  year  it  was  offi- 
cially declared.     During  the  next  two  years  the 
struggle  continued  in  the  North  Sea.     Lack  of 
money,    administrative   corruption,    and   official 
recriminations  at  home  could  hinder  a  decisive 
result,  but  it  could  not  hinder  a  display  of  heroism 
and  endurance  worthy  of  the  past  history  of  both 
countries.     Pepys   played   his   own   part  in   the 
crisis  so  well  that  the  Duke  of  Albemale  called 
him  "  the  right  hand  of  the  Navy."  1    Moreover, 

^  April  24,  1665. 

II 


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Samuel  Pepys 


before  the  war  had  lasted  many  weeks  he  had  an 
opportunity  of  showing  that  he  could  face  with 
composure  more  unmanning  dangers  than  con- 
fronted the  fleet  upon  the  high  seas.  "  This 
day,"  he  writes  on  June  7,  1665,  "  niuch  against 
my  will,  I  did  in  Drury  Lane  see  two  or  three  houses 
marked  with  a  red  cross  upon  the  doors,  and 
*  Lord  have  mercy  upon  us '  writ  there  ;  which 
was  a  sad  sight  to  me,  l^eing  the  first  of  the  kind 
that,  to  my  remembrance,  I  ever  saw."  A  few 
days  later  he  notes  that  he  sees  coaches  and  wagons 
full  of  people  escaping  into  the  country  from  the 
Plague. 

The  appalling  calamity  which  afflicted  the 
city  during  this  summer  was  not  unprecedented, 
even  in  Pepys'  lifetime,  for  in  1636  there  had  been 
a  similar  though  a  slighter  visitation.  Before 
then  the  attacks  of  the  sickness  had  been  frequent, 
though  irregular.  But  the  Plague  of  1665,  com- 
ing in  its  fury  after  an  interval  of  thirty  years' 
immunity,  made  a  deeper  impression  in  men's 
minds,  an  impression  intensified  by  the  swiftness 


Samuel  Pepys 


163 

with  which  the  still   more   striking  disaster   of 
the  next  year  foUowed  upon  its  heels.     Pepys, 
writing  to  Lady  Carteret  on  September  4,  when 
the  sickness  was  at  its  height,  gives  some  vivid 
details :     "  The  absence  of  the  Court  and  the 
emptiness  of  the  city  takes  away  aU  occasion  of 
news,  save  only  such  melancholy  stories  as  would 
rather  sadden  than  find  your  Ladyship  any  diver- 
tisement  in  the  hearing ;   I  having  stayed  in  the 
city  tiU  above  7,400  died  in  one  week,  and  of  them 
above  6,000  of  the  plague,  and  little  noise  heard 
day  or  night  but  toUing  of  beUs ;    till  I  could 
walk  Lumber  Street  and  not  meet  twenty  persons 
from  the  one  end  to  the  other,  and  not  50  upon  the 
Exchange  ;  till  whole  families  (10  or  12  together) 
have    been    swept    away ;    ...  till    the    nights 
(though  much  lengthened)  are  grown  too  short 
to  conceal  the  burials  of  those  that  died  the  day 
before,    people    being    thereby    constrained    to 
borrow  daylight  for  that  service;    lastly,  tiU  I 
could  find  neither  meat  nor  drink  safe,  the  bucher- 
ies  being  everywhere  visited,  my  brewer's  house 


i! 


f  'f 


\ 


164 


Samuel  Pepys 


shut  up,  and  my  baker  with  his  whole  family 
dead  of  the  plague."     In  July  Pepys  sent  his  wife, 
with  her  two  maids,  to  Woolwich,  to  be  out  of  the 
way  of  infection.     His   clerks   he  established  at 
Greenwich,  and  as  far  as  possible  conducted  the 
work  of  his  office  from  there.     "  The  sickness  in 
general  thickens  round  us,"  he  wrote  to  Coventry, 
**  and  particularly  upon  our  neighbourhood.    You, 
sir,  took  your  turn  of  the  sword ;    I  must  not, 
therefore,  grudge  to  take  mine  of  the  pestilence." 
His   courage,  which  was  not   generally  imitated 
by  his  colleagues,  was  rewarded  in  peculiar  mea- 
sure.    He  not  only  escaped  untouched  by  the 
infection,  but  from  a  variety  of  causes,  chief  among 
which  was  the  pleasant  affair  of  superintending 
young  Carteret's  courtship  of  Sandwich's  daugh- 
ter,  he   spent   a   more   than   usually  delightful 
summer.     "  These  last  three  months,"  he  writes 
in  his  Diary  on  September  30, "  for  joy,  health, 
and  profit,  have  been  much  the  greatest  that  ever 
I  received  in  all  my  life  in  any  twelve  months 
almost  in  my  life,  having  nothing  upon  me  but 


Samuel  Pepys 


165 


the  consideration  of  the  sickness  of  the  season 
during  this  great  plague  to  mortify  mee."     Some- 
thing of  a  mortification,  indeed;    but  by  this 
time   the   violence   of  the   sickness  was   akeady 
beginning  to  decrease,  and  as  the  cold  weather 
set  in  it  graduaUy  disappeared.     When  aU  danger 
was  at  an  end  the  household  returned  once  more 
to  Seething  Lane.     On  casting  up  his  accounts 
on  the  last  day  of  the  year  he  finds  himself,  to 
his  great  joy,  "  a  great  deal  worth  above  ^^4,000, 
for  which  the  Lord  be  praised  !  " 

He  was  by  this  time  deep  in  the  work  of  sur- 
veying the  Victualling  Department  and  making 
searching  inquiry  into  aU  the  details  of  its  adminis- 
tration.    As  an   example   of  the  discoveries   he 
made  he  notes  that  "  a  Purser  without  professed 
cheating  is  a  professed  loser,  twice  as  much  as 
he   gets."  1     As   the  war   went    on    the  money 
difficulty  grew  ever  more  acute  and  the  general 
outlook   more   threatening.     Popular   discontent 
ran   very  high.     The  hated  press-gang  was   at 

^  November  22,  1665. 


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Samuel  Pepys 


work,  and  Pepys  remarks  that  only  women  venture 
abroad,  the  "  men  being  so  afeared  of  the  press." 
Even  when  a  large  number  had  been  secured— 
many  of  them,  he  notes  with  shame,  «  people  of 
very  good  fashion  "—the  smaU  sum  required  to 
pay  them  the  "  pressed-money,"  which  was  legaUy 
due,  was  not  forthcoming.    Pepys  had  to  come 
to  the  rescue  of  the  incompetent  Lord  Mayor, 
Sir  Thomas  Budworth,  and  pay  the  money  out 
of  his  own  pocket,   "which  is  a  thing  worth 
record  of  my  Lord  Mayor,"  he  adds,  acidly.     He 
energetically  supervised  the  business  of  shipping 
the  pressed  men  off  from  the  Tower,  and  grieved 
to  see  the   despair  of  their  wives,   who  came 
"running  to    every  parcel    of  men    that    were 
brought,  one  after  another,  to  look  for  their  hus- 
bands, and  wept  over  every  vessel  that  went  off."  i 
It  was  a  great  tyranny,  he  reflected,  but  there  was- 
no  help  for  it.     Only  a  day  or  two  later  his  office 
was  beset  by  a  crowd  of  women,  over  three  hundred 
in  number,  who  came  with  much  clamour  and 

1  June  30,  July  1,  6,  1666. 


I 


W 


Samuel  Pepys 


167 


vituperation  to  implore  money  for  their  husbands 
who  were  prisoners  in  Holland.  Their  distress 
smote  Pepys  till  he  was  ready  to  weep  to  hear  them. 
It  was  too  true  that  they  had  suflEered  for  the 
King,  that  they  had  been  starved  and  ill-treated, 
and  that  they  were  offered  more  to  fight  for 
the  Dutch  than  they  had  got  for  fighting  against 
them.  All  Pepys  could  do  was  to  keep  the  King 
and  the  Duke  of  York  steadily  informed  of  the  way 
in  which  his  department  was  suffering  for  lack  of 
money.  He  received  compliments  on  his  ability 
from  both,  but  as  for  money,  the  House  of  Com- 
mons seemed  more  ready  to  demand  inquiry  into 
previous  expenditure  than  to  grant  the  means 
for  more.  It  was  a  sad  state  of  affairs ;  but  Pepys 
kept  up  his  spirit,  conscious  that  the  Victual- 
ling Department  at  any  rate  was  being  better 
managed  than  it  had  been  managed  before,  and 
that  at  the  worst  a  decent  competence  was  safely 
laid  up  in  his  own  strong  box.  He  had  good 
grounds  for  private  satisfaction  when,  on  Septem- 
ber I,  he  went  with  his  wife  and  maid  to  see 


1 1 

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1 68 


Samuel  Pepys 


Pohchinelly,  and  returned  home  singing~^f;;7; 
cheerful  supper  at  Islington.     A  dinner-party  at 
his  house  had  been  arranged  for  the  next  day 
and  he  went  to  bed  leaving  his  maids  sitting  up 
late  at  the  preparations  for  it. 

At  three    o'clock    in    the   morning    (Sunday, 
September  2,  ,666)  one  of  them  called  him  up 
to  see  a  fire  which  was  visible  from  her  window 
Pepys  went  to  look,  but  judged  it  far  enough  off 
to  be  safe,  and  returned  to  bed.     When  he  rose 
about  seven  there  was  less  of  it  to  be  seen,  so  he 
busied  himself  in  putting  his  things  straight  in 
^^  closet  without  troubhng  further  about  it 
Presently  the  same  maid  hurried    in  with  the 
report   that  three    hundred   houses   had    been 
destroyed  in  the  night,  and  that  the  fire  was  still 
burnmg.     On  this  Pepys  made  off  to  the  Tower 
to  a  spot  which  commanded  a  view  of  the  city 
From  there  he  could  see  a  great  fire  raging  all 
round  the  city  end  of  London  Bridge.    He  took  a 
boat  and  went  up  the  river  to  watch  it.     Every- 
tJiing   was   in  the  wildest    confusion.     The  fire 


Samuel  Pepys 


169 

leapt  from  one  house  to  a^^ih^^^^i^T^^^^i^ 
burn  stone-built   churches  as  easily  as  lath  and 
plaster.    No  one  made  any  attempt  to  cope  with 
it ;    people  stopped  in  their  houses  tiU  the  fire 
reached  them,  and  then  tried  to  save  their  belong- 
ings by  flinging  them  into  the  boats  that  lay  by 
the  water-side.     Pepys  watched  it  for  an  hour, 
and  then  went  up  the  river  to  Whitehall.     The 
account  he  gave  was  carried  to  the  King,  who 
presently  sent  for  him.     Pepys  described  what  he 
had  seen,  and  said  that  unless  His  Majesty  com- 
manded houses  to  be  pulled  down  nothing  could 
stop  the  fire.     The  King  at  once  authorized  him 
to  go  to  the  Lord  Mayor  with  directions  to  this 
effect.    Pepys  hurried  off  accordingly,  and  found 
him,  incompetent  as  before,  exhausted  and  out 
of  temper,  vainly  trying  to  exert  his  authority. 
There  was  nothing  for  Pepys  to  do  but  to  make  his 
way  home  through  the  crowds  who  were  pouring 
out  of  the  city  with  such  of  their  possessions  as 
they  could  carry  with  them.    He  found  that  his 
dinner-party  had  actually  assembled,  and  declares 


i 


•c-Ba^ 


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170 


Samuel  Pepys 


that  they  had  an  extraordinary  good  dinner  and 
were  as  merry  as  could  be  expected.     They  then 
crossed  the  river  to  the  Surrey  side,  from  where, 
as  it  grew  dark,  they  watched  the  great  arch  of  fire 
which  spanned  the  city—"  a  most  horrid  mah- 
cious  bloody  flame,"  says  Pepys,  "  not  like  the  fine 
flame  of  an  ordinary  fire."     When  they  reached 
home  he  and  his  wife  began  to  prepare  their  goods 
for  removal,  as  the  fire  still  continued  to  spread. 
They  stacked  their  things  in  the  garden,  it  being 
"  brave  dry,  and  moonshine,  and  warm  weather." 
Sleep  was   impossible,  and  with    the  first   light 
Pepys   conveyed  his  money  and  plate  on  a  cart  to 
the  house  of  Sir  W.  Rider,  a  coUeague  of  his  on 
the    Tangier    Commission,    at    Bethnal    Green, 
where  he  stored  them  in  safety.     The  whole  of  the 
day  was  employed  in  removing  the  rest  of  his  be- 
longings by  water,  with  the  exception  of  his  wine 
and  "  Parmazan  cheese,"  which,  with  some  of  his 
office  papers,  he  buried  in  the  garden.     He  and  his 
wife  slept  that  night  in  a  denuded  house,  without 
so  much  as  a  dish  off  which  to  eat  the  remains 
of  the  Sunday  dinner. 


Samuel  Pepys 


171 


The  fire  had  begun,  on  that  disastrous  Sunday 
morning,  in  Pudding  Lane,  which  was  not  far 
from  Pepys'  house  and  office.     By  the  evening 
of  the  tHrd  day  Cheapside  and  St.  Paul's  were 
in  ruins,  and  the  fire  had  reached  Fleet  Street. 
Its  main  progress  was  thus    towards  the  west, 
away  from  the  Navy  Office ;    but  when  on  the 
morning  of  the  sth  (Wednesday),  Pepys  found 
that  it  had  reached  the  church  of  All  Hallows, 
Barking,  at  the  bottom  of  Seething  Lane,  he  had 
smaU  hope  of  saving  his  house  and  office.    He  at 
once  took  his  wife,  his  clerk  W.  Hewer,  and  his 
maid  Jane,   down  to  Woolwich    by  boat,  and 
returned  with  the  full  expectation  of  seeing  the 
whole  place  in  flames.     To  his  joy  he  found  that 
Seething  Lane  was  still  untouched,  efforts  having 
at  last  been  made  to  check  the  fire  by  blowing  up 
the  houses  in  its  path.     The  next  day  it  was  possible 
to  measure  the  full  extent  of  the  destruction. 
From  Seething  Lane  to  the  Temple  not  a  house 
or  a  church  was  standing,  which  meant  practically 
that  the  whole  of  the  city  within  the  walls  had 


\ 


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172 


Samuel  Pepys 


h 


been  burnt.    Tlie  fire  had  spared  for  the  most 
part  the  crowded  suburbs  outside  the  walls,  where 
the  larger  part  of  the  population,  and  that  the 
poorer,  were  by  this  time  settled  ;  so  that  gener- 
aUy  speaking  it  was  the  weU-to-do  classes  who  now 
found    themselves    homeless.    The     flourishing 
commercial  world  of  London  had  to  take  shelter 
where  it  could;    Moorfields  and  other  vacant 
spaces  round  the  city  were  soon  covered  with  tem- 
porary habitations.     The  catastrophe  was,  on  the 
whole,  borne  with  extraordinary  fortitude.     But  it 
seemed  to  the  people  impossible  that  its  origin 
could  have  been  (as  it  certainly  was)  accidental. 
A  rumour  that  it  was  part  of  a  French  Cathohc 
plot,  to  be  followed  by  a  general  massacre  of 
Protestants,  ran  round  at  once,  and  Pepys  mentions 
that  it  was  dangerous  for  any  foreigner  to  show 
himself  in  the  streets. 

Meanwhile,  he  was  soon  able  to  restore  his 
belongings  to  the  Navy  Ofiice,  which  had  been 
thus  left  untouched  on  the  verge  of  the  space 
destroyed.     The  city  lay  for  months  and  even 


Samuel  Pepys 


m 

years  in  entire  ruin,  haunted  by  s'h^dj^^h^ters, 
which  made  it  dangerous  to  cross  at  night.    As 
late  as  1668  (April  23)  Pepys  found  it  necessary 
to  walk  home-  aU  round  by  the  wall,  to  avoid 
"  two  rogues  with  clubs  »  whom  he  encountered 
among  the  ruins.     Many  schemes  were  proposed 
for  rebuilding  the  city  upon  improved  lines,  but 
they  all  ultimately  feU  through,  and  the  new 
streets  which  at  last  arose  preserve  to  this  day 
the  old  intricacies  and  the  old  picturesque  names. 
As  soon  as  it  was  possible  to  settle  down  to  work 
again,  after  the  fire  had  been  got  under,  Pepys 
was  faced  with  the  duty  of  preparing  an  account 
of  the  naval  expenditure  for  the  inspection  of  a 
Parliamentary  Committee.     The  prospect  filled 
him  with  agitation.     The  Navy  Board  held  hasty 
consultations,  and  each  ofiicer  made  out  his  state- 
ment.    To  Pepys'  relief  it  finally  seemed  that  they 
would  be  able,  with  a  little  judicious  management, 
to  justify  their  expenditure.     The  scrutiny  was 
held  on  October  3,  1666.     Pepys'  colleagues  left 
him  to  face  the  Committee  alone,  which  was  pos- 


174 


Samuel  Pepys 


sibly  their  wisest  course.     The  result  was,  on  the 
whole,  satisfactory,  and  a  few  days  later  the  Board 
had  an  opportunity  of  laying  the  desperate  state 
of  the  Navy's  needs  before  the  King  and  Council 
in  person.     Pepys,  in  a  spirited  account  of  the 
scene,  tells  how  he  made  "  a  current,  and  I  thought 
a  good  speech,  laying  open  the  ill  state  of  the  Navy  : 
by  the  greatness  of  the  debt  ;   greatness  of  work 
to  do  against  next  yeare  ;   the  time  and  materials 
it  would  take ;    and  our  incapacity,  through  a 
total  want  of  money."  1     This  he  followed  up  by 
a  "  great  letter  "  to  the  Duke  of  York,  setting 
forth  the  same  considerations  in  forcible  terms. 
Parliament  voted  the  King  large  sums  of  money  ; 
but  as  usual  it  was  doubtful  how  much  would 
find  its  way  to  the  fleet.     Charles  was  at  this 
moment  more  interested  in  his  plan  of  devising 
a  new  fashion  for  clothes  at  Court,  which  was  never 
afterwards  to  be  departed  from.     He  and  other 
members  of  his  circle  first  appeared  in  it  on  Octo- 
ber 15,  1666,  and  Pepys  soon  followed  suit.     "  A 

^  October  7,  1666. 


Samuel  Pepys 


long  cassocke  close  to  the  body,"  so  he  describes 
It,  "  of  black  cloth,  and  pinked  with  white  silk 
under  it,  and  a  coat  over  it,  and  the  legs  ruffled 
with  black  riband  like  a  pigeon's  leg  "  i_«  a  comely 
dress  after  the  Persian  mode,"  says  Evelyn.^    Pepys 
afterwards  heard  that  Louis  XIV  had  thereupon 
dressed  his  footmen  in  the  new  style,  a  malicious 
stroke  which  was  the  end  of  the  Persian  mode  at 
WhitehaU.     But  for  those  less  easily  diverted  than 
the  King  the  outlook  appeared  more  and  more 
ommous.     The  seamen  were  growing  disaffected 
for  want  of  pay,  and  the  fleet  could  not  be  pro- 
perly  re-fitted  for  the  New  Year.     Pepys  began 
to  expect  the  worst ;  it  seemed  hopeless  that  the 
country  could  hold  its  own.     His  anxiety  about 
pubhc  matters  breaks  out  in  many  entries  in  the 
Diary  this   winter,  one  so  characteristic  that   it 
must  be  quoted.     "  So  to  supper  and  to  bed  " 
he  writes  on  April  3,  1667,  "  vexed  at  two  or  three 
things,  viz.  :   that  my  wife's  watch  proves  so  bad 
as  It  do ,.   the  ill  state  of  the  office ;   and  King- 

^  October  15,  ,e^^     .  Evel^^,  ^.^^^  ^^^^^^^  ^^^  ^^ 


I' 


176 


Samuel  Pepys 


dom's  business ;  at  the  charge  which  my  mother's 
death  for  mourning  will  bring  me  when  all  paid." 
The  crisis  came  on  June  1 1,  when  the  Dutch  sailed 
up  the  Medway,  broke  the  chain  at  Chatham,  and 
burnt  the  ships  which  lay  there  at  anchor.  The 
King  was  supping  that  day  with  Lady  Castlemaine, 
and  spent  a  hilarious  evening  in  hunting  a  moth. 
The  city  was  panic-stricken  at  the  news,  and 
rumours  of  treachery  and  massacre  were  again 
heard  on  all  sides.  Pepys  evidently  felt  that  his 
own  position  and  even  his  life  were  doubly  in- 
secure. Even  if  the  city  were  not  attacked  from 
without,  wliom  would  the  populace  most  naturally 
turn  and  rend  if  not  the  defenceless  Navy  Board  ? 
He  might  feel  that  he  had  personally  done  his 
duty,  but  things  would  look  badly  for  any  one  who 
had  had  a  share  in  the  control  of  the  fleet.  He 
at  once  decided  to  send  his  wife  into  the  country, 
to  Brampton,  with  as  much  of  his  money  as  was 
in  his  own  hands,  and  to  dispose  of  his  most 
valuable  plate  and  papers  (including  the  precious 
Diary)  elsewhere, "  that  so,  being  scattered  what  I 


Samuel  Pepys 


have,  something  might  be  ^2^^^dJ^^~~P^ 
later  his  wife  returned  from  Brampton.     She  had 
been  directed  to  bury  the  money  in  the  garden, 
and  the  account  she  gave  of  her  errand  was  very 
unsatisfactory.     She  and  her  father-in-law  had 
buried  it  on  Sunday  in  open  daylight,  while  the 
others  were   at  church,   where,   for   aught   they 
knew,  many  eyes  might  have  seen  them.     Pepys 
was  in  a  fever  of  agitation,  but  he  could  only  wait 
for  public  affairs  to  grow  quiet.     This  they  did 
sooner  than  had  seemed  possible ;    the  Peace  of 
Breda  was  signed  on  July  31,  1667.     In  October 
Pepys  made  the  journey  to  Brampton  to  recover 
his  money.     He  teUs,  in  a  most  graphic  piece  of 
description,  how  he  and  his  wife  and  father  pro- 
ceeded  to  dig  it  up  at  night  :  how  at  first  they  could 
not  remember  the  exact  spot ;  how  he  sweated 
and  fumed  with  anger  ;  how  at  last  they  found  it, 
by  prodding  the  ground  with  a  spit,  carelessly 
buried  not  six  inches   underground;    how   the 
bags  were  all  rotted  by  the  damp,  and  the  gold 


^  June  13,  1667. 


12 


178 


Samuel  Pepys 


\ 


If 
i 


;' 


pieces  scattered  loose  in  the  earth ;  how  he 
carried  what  they  could  find  up  to  his  chamber, 
to  wash  and  count  them,  and  found  the  total  short 
by  about  a  hundred  pieces.  Mad  with  indignation 
Pepys  went  out  again,  it  being  now  midnight, 
with  Hewer,  his  clerk,  and  by  the  light  of  a  candle 
succeeded  in  collecting  forty-five  pieces  more. 
With  the  first  light  of  morning  they  were  at  it  again, 
sifting  the  earth  "  just  as  they  do  for  diamonds  in 
other  parts  of  the  world,"  and  at  last  brought 
the  number  up  to  seventy-nine,  with  which  he 
had  to  be  contented.  He  carried  the  money 
back  to  London  the  same  day,  satisfied,  on  the 
whole  to  have  got  off  with  no  greater  loss.* 

He  had  not  as  yet,  however,  nearly  heard  the 
last  of  the  general  outcry  which  had  been  raised 
by  the  disastrous  mismanagement  of  the  later 
stages  of  the  war.  Once  more  the  principal  burden 
fell  upon  him  of  defending  the  action  of  the  Navy 
Board  before  a  Parliamentary  Committee.  On 
October   22,   and    again    on   the   30th,   he  was 

^  October  10,  11,  1667. 


Samuel  Pepys 


/ 


}19 

examined  upon  various  points  of  administration 
and  came  off  reasonably  well,  none  of  his  coUeagues 
intervening  except  Commissioner  Pett,  who  made 
a  lamentable  display  of  ineffectiveness,  and  Lord 
Brouncker,  who  put  in  «  two  or  three  silly  words." 
On  January  31,  1668,  he  was  confronted  with  the 
Commissioners  for  Accounts,  and  was  able  to  give 
them  satisfaction.    A  few  days  later  came  "a 
damned  summons  to  attend  the  Committee  of 
Miscarriages  to-day,  which  makes  me  mad,  that  I 
should  by  my  place  become  the  hackney  of  this 
office,  in  perpetual  trouble  and  vexation,  that  need 
it  least."  1    It  was  the  penalty  he  paid  for  having 
th£  clearest  head  and  the  widest  knowledge  of 
any  of  the  naval  officials ;  though  it  was  certainly 
hard  that  so  much  vexation  should  faU  upon  him, 
"  who  have  best  deported  myself  in  aU  the  King's 
business,"  as  he  says  with  reason.    But  the  House 
of  Commons  were  still  unappeased  ;   on  February 
28  Pepys  learnt  that  there  had  been  a  storm  "  all 
this  day  almost  against  the  Officers  of  the  Navy," 

*  February  11,  1668. 


■   i 
'1 


i8o 


Samuel  Pepys 


and  that  finally  it  had  been  decided  that  the  Board 
should  be  called  upon  to  defend  itself  at  the  bar 
of  the  House.  Again  there  were  hasty  consulta- 
tions, and  Pepys  saw  to  his  discontent  that  all  his 
colleagues  relied  upon  him,  as  before,  to  extricate 
them  from  their  difficulties.  When  the  appointed 
day  arrived  (March  5,  1668)  Pepys  rose  in  great 
depression  and  anxiety,  and  proceeded  to  West- 
minster, where  the  Board  were  already  assembled. 
With  half-a-pint  of  mulled  sack  and  a  dram  of 
brandy,  he  found  himself  "  in  better  order  as  to 
courage."  Between  eleven  and  twelve  o'clock 
the  Board  were  summoned  before  a  crowded  and 
unfriendly  house.  After  the  Speaker  had  read 
the  report  of  the  Committee,  Pepys  delivered 
his  carefully-prepared  speech.  "  I  began  our 
defence,"  he  says, "  most  acceptably  and  smoothly, 
and  continued  at  it  without  any  hesitation  or 
losse,  but  with  full  scope,  and  all  my  reason  free 
about  me,  as  if  it  had  been  at  my  own  table,  from 
that  time  till  past  three  in  the  afternoon ;  and 
so   ended,   without   any   interruption   from   the 


Samuel  Pepys 


181 

Speaker ;    but  we  withdrew.     And  there  all  my 
Fellow-Officers,  and  all  the  world  that  was  within 
hearing,  did  congratulate  me,  and  cry  up  my 
speech  as  the  best  thing  they  ever  heard ;    and 
my  FeUow-Officers   overjoyed  in  it."  1     It  was 
a  personal  triumph,  and  Pepys  keenly  rehshed  the 
weU-deserved   compliments   and   congratulations 
which  were  showered  upon  him.     "  Good-morrow, 
Mr.  Pepys,  that  must  be  Speaker  of  the  Parlia-^ 
ment-house,"  said  Coventry,  the  next  morning. 
"  Mr.   Pepys,   I   am   very  glad   of  your  success 
yesterday,"  said    the  King.     Mr.    G.  Montagu 
kissed  him  on  the  mouth  and  called  him  another 
Cicero,  protesting  that  all  the  world  said  the  same. 
The  Speaker  had  never  heard  such  a  defence  made 
in   the  House,   and   the   Solicitor-General   "do 
commend  me  even  to  envy."     The  House  was 
finally  satisfied  of  the  innocence  of  the  Board, 
and  all  further  proceedings  were  dropped. 

The  next  few  months  passed  uneventfully  as 
far  as  official  matters  were  concerned.     But  a 

^  March  5,  1668. 


1    i\ 


1 


1 82 


Samuel  Pepys 


•\ 


very  real  trial  now  began  to  claim  more  and 
more  of  Pepys'  attention.  For  some  time  past 
his  eyesight  had  intermittently  given  him  trouble. 
He  had  consulted  Cocker,  the  famous  master 
of  arithmetic,  upon  the  subject,  and  had  tried 
green  spectacles  for  work  by  candlelight.  During 
1668  this  trouble  grew  persistently  worse,  till 
reading  or  writing  at  night  became  practically 
impossible,  even  with  the  help  of  what  he 
calls  a  "  tube-spectacall  of  paper,"  which  was 
another  expedient  he  tried.  He  now  more  readily 
allowed  himself  indulgence  in  the  way  of  play- 
going  and  music  than  he  had  done  in  former 
years,  when  the  system  of  vows  had  been  in 
force  in  all  its  rigour.  During  this  summer, 
moreover,  he  took  an  unwontedly  long  holiday. 
Except  for  his  periodic  visits  to  his  father  at 
Brampton,  Pepys  rarely  left  London  for  more 
than  a  day  or  two  at  a  time.  But  in  June,  1668, 
he  and  his  wife,  accompanied  by  W.  Hewer,  a 
young  cousin  named  Betty  Turner,  and  Deb 
Willet,  Mrs.  Pepys'  maid,  went  for  a  fortnight's 


Samuel  Pepys 


183 


tour  in  the  West  of  England.     The  rough  notes 
for  his  Diary  which  Pepys  took  on  this  journey 
are  inserted  in  their  proper  place  in  the  volume, 
and  are  all  we  have  by  way  of  description,  for 
the  fair  copy  was  never  made,  though  several 
pages  were  left  blank  for  it.     The  notes  give 
careful   details   of   all   disbursements,   as     thus  : 
"9th    (Tuesday).     When    come    to    Oxford,    a 
very  sweet  place  :   paid   our  guide,   ^i  is,  6d,  ; 
barber,  2s.  6d.  ;  book,  Stonage,i  4/.    To  dinner  ; 
and  then  out  with  my   wife   and   people,   and 
landlord :    and   to   him   that    showed    us     the 
schools  and  library,   los.  ;   to  him  that   showed 
us  All  Souls'  College,  and  Chichly's  picture,  5^." 
And  so  on,  with  liberal  gratuities  wherever  they 
went,   missing  none  of  the  sights  of  the  towns 
through  which  they  passed.     From  Oxford  they 
went  by  Abingdon  and  Hungerford  to  Salisbury, 
where  Pepys  thought  the  cathedral  "  most  admir- 
able," which  in  a  man  so  thoroughly  the  child  of  his 

1  i.e.,  Stonehenge.     Inigo  Jones  published  a  book  on  the 
subject  in  1655,  and  Walter  Charleton,  M.D.,  another  in  1663. 


i    fi 


I 


li 


184 


Samuel  Pepys 


generation  is  noteworthy.    On  Salisbury  Plain  they 
were  benighted,  and  had  to  sleep  at  a  wayside 
inn,  where  the   beds  were  "good,  but  lousy; 
which  made  us  merry."    They  certainly  trav- 
elled  in   the   right   spirit.     They  proceeded   to 
Bath,   where   they   bathed  in   fashionable  com- 
pany;   and    Bristol,    where    they  admired    the 
shipping.     They    returned    home    by    Marlbor- 
ough and  Newbury.     By  the  time  they  reached 
London  it  was  clear  that  Mrs.  Pepys  was  put 
out  and  vexed  by  something,  her  husband  could 
not  tell  what.     A  hint,  this,  of  impending  dis- 
aster, by  which  Pepys  failed  to  take  warning. 

Soon  after  his  return  to  work  Pepys  was  called 
upon  to  undertake  a  delicate  matter.  In  an 
interview  with  the  Duke  of  York,  on  July 
24,  he  enlarged  on  the  failings  of  the  Navy 
Board,  and  urged  him  to  call  the  officers  to 
account.  He  had  defended  them  before  the 
public,  but  before  the  Lord  High  Admiral 
he  spoke  openly  and  unmercifully  of  all  his 
colleagues.     The    Duke   accordingly   asked   him 


Samuel  Pepys 


185 


to  draft  a  letter  of  inquisition,  to  be  presented 
to  the  Board  in  his  name.     Pepys  readily  did 
this,  and  the  Duke  adopted  his  draft  without 
altering    a    syllable.     An    artful    verisimilitude 
had  been  given  to  the  references  to  the  Clerk  of 
the  Acts ;    no  specific  charges,  it  seemed,  could 
be  made  against  this  officer,  who  appeared  to 
have  acquitted  himself  diligently;    but  at  the 
same  time  the  Duke  will  be  willing  to  consider 
any  information  against  him  which  other  offi- 
cers may  have  to  offer.     But  the  Board  natur- 
ally guessed  at  once  who  was  at  the  bottom  of 
this  indictment,  Pepys'  opinion  of  his  colleagues' 
work   and    his    confidential   relations    with   the 
Duke  being  equally  well  known  to  them.     How- 
ever,  the   viper   who   had   thus   been   "taking 
notes  "  among  them  was  too  secure  in  his  posi- 
tion and  too  obviously  in  the  right  to  have  much 
to  fear.     Each  officer  of  the  Board  was  to  send 
in  a  separate  reply,  and  Pepys  artfully  tock  the 
precaution  of  getting  the  Duke  to  let  him  see  the 
others  before  depositing  his  own  ;   but  he  found, 


E    I 


1 86 


Samuel  Pepys 


as  he  expected,  that  they  had  little  to  charge  him 
with.     It  now  remained  for  him  to  draw  up 
the    Duke's    final    rejoinder,    which    he    did   in 
trenchant  language.     It  was  presented  on  Nov- 
ember 28,  and   the  matter    was    closed.     The 
whole  aflfair  shows  how  completely  Pepys  had 
by  this  time  taken  his  place  as  the  most  import- 
ant member  of  the  Board.     It  was  a  long  way 
from  the  time  when  he  had  had  to  be  watchful 
and  circumspect  in  his  outward  behaviour  to- 
wards his  colleagues. 

And  now  at  last  Pepys  was  overtaken  by  a 
domestic  catastrophe  which  he  had  for  years 
escaped  only  by  a  succession  of  chances.  At  the 
time  when  he  began  his  Diary  he  appears  to  have 
been  a  faithful  if  not  a  very  attentive  husband. 
But  we  have  already  seen  how  soon  he  began 
to  fall  away,  and  how,  by  steady  degrees,  his  in- 
fidelities became  a  regular  part  of  his  life.  Again 
and  again,  as  time  went  on,  detection  by  his 
wife  had  seemed  imminent.  He  never  con- 
ceals his  terror  at  the  thought  of  such  a  dis- 


Samuel  Pepys 


187 


aster,  but  the  immediate  danger  once  past  he 
would  go  on  his  way  again  without  ever  laying 
the  warning  to  heart.     He  grew  more  and  more 
imprudent,  and  when  he  began  to  prosecute  his 
adventures  under  his  very  roof  and    to    attack 
the  virtue    of    his    own    maid-servants,   it  was 
certain  that  it  could  only  be  a   matter  of  time 
before  his    good  luck   should  fail  him.     It  will 
be  remembered  that  on  their  holiday  excursion 
Mrs.  Pepys  had  taken  her  maid.  Deb  Willett. 
It  was  this  unfortunate  girl,  out  of  so  many 
other  victims,  who  brought  about  the  tragedy. 
"After  supper,"  writes  Pepys  on  October  25, 
1668,  "  to  have  my  head  combed  by  Deb,  which 
occasioned  the  greatest  sorrow  to  me  that  ever 
I  knew  in  this  world,  for  my  wife,  coming  up 
suddenly,  did  find  me  embracing  the  girl.  .  .  . 
I  was  at  a  wonderful  loss  upon  it,  and  the  girle 
also,  and  I  endeavoured  to  put  it  off,  but  my 
wife  was  struck  mute  and  grew  angry,  and  so 
her    voice    came   to    her,  ^grew    quite    out    of 
order,  and    I   to   say  little,    but   to    bed,   and 


f 
i 


•  i  i 


Sl^ 


ir 


1 88 


Samuel  Pepys 


my  wife  said  little  also,  but  could  not  sleep  all 
night." 

Pepys  was  found  out.     The  gay  life  was  shat- 
tered, the  blow  which  he  had  avoided  for  so 
long   crushed   him   to   the   ground.     His   wife, 
infuriated  by  jealousy  and  by  the  remembrance 
of  the  rigid  discipline  he  had  always  imposed 
upon  her,  made  the  utmost  of  the  situation,  and 
kept  her  husband  in  a  state  of  abject  and  fluc- 
tuating misery  which  certainly  did  something 
to  avenge  her.     He  was  not  at  first  quite  certain 
how  much,  as  he  bluntly  put  it,  she  had  seen, 
but  it  was  very  soon  clear  that  there  would  be 
no  peace  as  long  as  the  unhappy  girl  remained 
in  the  house.     With  a  twinge  of  genuine  com- 
punction that  she  should  suffer  by  his  fault  he 
agreed  to  discharge  her,  and  for  a  few  days  there 
was  comparative  calm.     But  Pepys  had  not  yet 
learnt   his   lesson.     A   week   later   he   had   dis- 
covered her  abode  and  had  hurried  once  more 
in  pursuit.     The  next  day  his  wife  taxed  him 
with  it,  calling  him  "  all  the  false,  rotten-hearted 


rogues   in   the  world."    Pepys   held   out  for  a 
time,  "  but  at  last  did,  for  the  ease  of  my  mind 
and  hers,  and  for  ever  to  discharge  my  heart  of 
this  wicked  business,  I  did  confess  all,  and  above 
stairs  in  our  bed  chamber  there  I  did  endure 
the  sorrow  of  her  threats  and  vows  and  curses 
all  the  afternoon."  ^     The  rest  of  the  story  is 
not  to  the  credit  of  poor  Mrs.  Pepys,  with  every 
allowance  to  which  she  was  entitled.     Her  fury 
was  still  unappeased,  and  her  submissive  husband 
was  made  to  write  Deb  an  insulting  letter,  full 
of  bad  names.     A  spark  of  manliness  arose  in 
Pepys,  and  though  he  wrote  the  letter  he  took 
care  to  send  it  by  the  trusted  Hewer,  with  direc- 
tions that  he  was  to  read  it  aloud  to  Deb  and  in 
reading  to  omit  the  grossest  insult.     But  except 
for  this  small  show  of  spirit,  Pepys'  subjection 
was     complete    and    unconditional.     There    is 
plenty  of  plain  speaking  about  his  wife  on  other 
occasions  in  the  Diary,  but  at  this  climax  he  never 
suggests  that  there  was  anything  unreasonable  in 

^  November  19,  i668. 


i  I 


li 


190 


Samuel  Pepys 


R/j 


I' 


her  behaviour,  even  when,  weeks  after  the  whole 
incident  might  have  been  thought  closed,  she 
followed  up  a  torrent  of  random  abuse  by  ap- 
pearing at  his  bedside  "  with  the  tongs  red  hot 
at  the  ends,"  and  "  made  as  if  she  did  design  to 
pinch  me  with  them."  1    Her  conduct  had  been 
so  excessive,  and  withal  so  uncertain,  for  she  had 
constantly  agreed  to  bury  the  past  and  as  often 
raked  it  up  again,  that  it  is  really  to  Pepys'  credit 
that  he  could  conclude  his  account  of  the  affair 
of  the   tongs,   "I   cannot   blame   her  jealousy, 
though  it  do  vex  me  to  the  heart."     She  had 
further  made  him  uneasy  by  letting  out,  in  one 
of  her  passions,  that  she  was  really  a  Roman 
Catholic,  a  matter  which  proved  of  some  moment 
years  afterwards. 

Even  now — the  Diary  is  there  to  prove  it — 
Pepys  had  not  learnt  his  lesson  beyond  the  pos- 
sibility of  forgetting  it  again.  But  at  least  for 
a  while  there  are  no  further  lapses.  With  his 
peculiar  dramatic  appreciation  of  respectability 

1  Januar/  12,  1669. 


Samuel  Pepys 


191 


it  is  probable  that  he  even  got  enjoyment  out  of 
playing  the  part  of  a  sober  and  domesticated 
husband.     He  had  certainly  done  so  when  he 
was  nothing  of  the  kind.     Robert  Louis  Steven- 
son, in  his  penetrating  essay  on  Pepys,  points  out 
how,  in  the  right  company,  especially  that  of 
the  admired  Sir  William  Coventry,  Pepys  would 
at  any  time  talk  in  the  vein  of  an  old  Roman. 
"Thank  God,"  he  had  once  said,  with  an  air 
of  republican  simplicity,  "  I  have  enough  of  my 
own  to  buy  me  a  good  book  and  a  good  fiddle, 
and  I  have  a  good  wife."  1    His  coach,  which 
he  had  now  set  up  with  a  pair  of  black  horses, 
"  very  genteel  and  sober,"  was  a  further  source 
of  pleasure.     Another  thing  which  caused  him 
both  mirth  and  profit  was  his  formal  appoint- 
ment as  Captain  of  one  of  the  King's  ships,  in 
order   that   he   might   sit   on   a    Court-martial 
where   his   presence    happened    to   be   desired. 
What  with  his  now  assured  competence  and  his 
faUing  eyesight  he  began  to  think  seriously  of 

1  February  18,  1668. 


i; 


n 


! 


192 


Samite  I  Pepys 


retirement.     He  was  only  thirty-six,  but  he  had 
to  face  the  prospect,  or  believed  that  he  had,  of 
some  day  being  entirely  blind,  at  any  rate  un- 
less he  took  care  not  to  over-tax  his  sight.     More- 
over, he  had  long  formed  the  design  of  writing 
a  history  of  the  Navy,  and  had  made  a  collection 
of  documents  to  that  end.     There  was  no  hope 
of  being  able  to  do  this  while  he  was  still  occupied 
with   official   work.     The   first   stage,    however, 
should  be  leave   of  absence  for  three  or  four 
months,  to  include  a  tour  in  France  and  Holland 
with   his    wife.     His    devoted    services,    not    to 
speak  of  the  serious  condition  of  his  eyes,  thor- 
oughly entitled  him  to  this,  and  the  Duke  of 
York  made  no  trouble  about  allowing  it.     Pepys 
and  his  wife  set  to  work  to  prepare  for  departure. 
But  before  they  started  Pepys  was  forced  to 
relinquish    something    more    important    to    us, 
something  indeed  which  had  grown  dearer  and 
more  interesting  to  him,  than  his  office  work. 
The  manuscript  of  his  Diary  shows  in  its  later 
pages  how  severe  a  tax  upon  his  eyesight  that 


i 


Samuel  Pepys 


193 

loving  labour  was  beginning  to  be.    The  nea^ 
and  minute  shorthand  of  the  earlier  volumes 
becomes  large  and   straggling.     There  was  no 
help  for  it,  the  friendly  companion  must  be  laid 
aside.     In  nine  years  and  five  months  Pepys  had 
covered  some  three  thousand  pages,  filling  six 
substantial  volumes.     In  all  that  time  he  had 
never  left  a  day  without  some  record,  with  the 
solitary  exception  of  a  fortnight's  excursion  into 
the    country    in    the    autumn    of    1668.'     The 
description  of  a  single  day  would  often  run  to 
many  hundreds  of  words.     Solely  for  his  own 
personal    and    private    satisfaction,    so    we    are 
forced  to  conclude,  Pepys  had  produced  one  of 
the  most  living  and  extraordinary  books  in  the 
English  language,  a  book  which  is  not  merely  the 
chief  of  its  kind  but  one  of  which  no  other  of  its 
kind  has  nearly  approached.    In  a  sense,  no  doubt, 
he  may  be  said  to  have  lacked  all  literary  skill- 
he  had  no  conscious  knowledge,  that  is,  of  the 

1  Between  September  29  and  October  11,  1668,  there  is  no 
entry  at  all,  though  several  blank  pages  are  left. 


I' 


If 


11 

1  r 


I 


'l.' 


ffj. 


^*l. 


H 


I  ■ 


u 


!' 

i? 


194 


Samuel  Pepys 


process  by  which  he  translated  his  impressions 
into   words— but   given   his   intense    relish   for 
life,  his  copious  flow,  his  vivid  vocabulary,  that 
lack  only  enhanced  the  artistic  value  of  his  work. 
If  a  literary  self-consciousness   were   anywhere 
perceptible,    the    force    of   the   whole   amazing 
portrait  would  be  impaired,  and  so  its  value  for 
art.     It  is  no  more  than  true  to  say  that  Pepys 
loved  it  as  he  loved  his  life.     It  was,  in  fact,  his 
life  :  absorbing,  irrepressible,  variegated,  a  thou- 
sand strands  twisted  into  one,  a  life  lived  among 
the  world,  and  yet  his  very  own,  known  only  to 
himself.     In  characteristic  words,  true  to  himself 
to  the  last,  he  says  as  much.     His  account  of 
May  31,  1669,  in  which,  be  it  noted,  he  mentions 
quite  simply  that  he  was  bafiled  in  an  amorous 
attempt   upon   a   woman   of  his   acquaintance, 
closes  with  these  genuinely  heart-felt  sentences — 
"  And  thus  ends  all  that  I  doubt  I  shall  ever 
be  able  to  do  with  my  own  eyes  in  the  keeping  of 
my  Journal,  I  being  not  able  to  do  it  any  longer, 
having  done  now  so  long  as  to  undo  my  eyes 


Samuel  Pepys 


_i95 

almost  every  time  that  I  take  a  pen  in  my^handT; 
and,  therefore,  whatever  comes  of  it,  I  must  for- 
bear  :  and,  therefore,  resolve,  from  this  time  for- 
ward,  to  have  it  kept  by  my  people  in  longhand, 
and  must  therefore  be  contented  to  set  down  no 
more  than  is  fit  for  them  and  all  the  world  to 
tnow ;    or,  if  there  be  anything,  which  cannot 
be  much,  now  my  amours  to  Deb  are  past,  and 
my  eyes  hindering  me  in  almost  aU  other  plea- 
sures, I  must  endeavour  to  keep  a  margin  in  my 
book  open,  to  add,  here  and  there,  a  note  m 
shorthand  with  my  own  hand. 
^    "  And  so  I  betake  myself  to  that  course,  which 
is  almost  as  much  as  to  see  myself  go  into  my 
grave  :    for  which,  and  aU  the  discomforts  that 
will  accompany  my  being  blind,  the  good  God 
prepare  me  ! 

"  S.  P." 


,i 


Chapter  VI 

AVERY  different  personage  now  appears 
upon  the  scene  from  the  man  who 
wrote  the  doleful  words  quoted  at  the 
end  of  the  last  chapter.  Better  than  by  any 
description  the  difference  can  be  shown  by 
turning  to  a  letter  written  to  John  Evelyn  in 
February,  1668  : — 

"  Sir, — ^You  will  not  wonder  at  the  backward- 
ness of  my  thanks  for  the  present  you  made  me, 
80  many  days  since,  of  the  Prospect  of  Medway, 
while  the  Hollander  rode  master  in  it,  when  I 
have  seriously  told  you  that  the  sight  of  it  hath 
led  me  to  such  reflections  on  my  particular  in- 
terest (by  my  employment)  in  the  reproach  due 
to  that  miscarriage,  as  have  given  me  little  less 
disquiet  than  he  is  fancied  to  have,  who  found 
his  face  in  Michael  Angelo's  Hell.     The  same 


IM 


^3  permission  of  Messrs.  George  Bell  &  Sons. 

Samuel  Pepys. 
From  the  painting  by  Sir  G.  Kneller  (Magdalene  CoUege,  Cambridge). 


h 


t 


1  1 


m 


Samuel  Pepys 


197 


should  serve  me,  also,  in  excuse  for  my  silence 
m  the  celebrating  your  mastery  shewn  in  the 
design  and  draught,  did  not  indignation  rather 
than  courtship  urge  me  so  far  to  commend 
them,  as  to  wish  the  furniture  of  our  House  of 
Lords  changed  from  the  story  of  '88  to  that  of 
'(>T,  (of  Evelyn's  designing,)  till  the  pravity  of  this 
were  reformed  to  the  temper  of  that  age,  wherein 
God  Almighty  found  his  blessing  more  opera- 
tive, than  (I  fear)  he  doth  in  ours,  his  judgments. 
Adieu  ! 

"Your   most   affectionate   and   most   humble 
servant, 

"  S.  P." 

It  is  in  such  weary  periods  as  these  that 
Pepys  henceforward  shows  himself—the  literary 
armour  which  he  puts  on  for  the  benefit  of  the 
outside  world.  When  he  sent  this  letter  he 
had  akeady  written  several  volumes  of  livelier 
Enghsh  than  this.  The  style  in  which  he  wrote 
the  Diary  was  entirely  natural  to  him  ;  it  flows 
as  easily  at  the  beginning  as  after  nine  years  of 


<# 


w 


198 


Samuel  Pepys 


daily  practice.  Grammar,  punctuation,  or  the 
balance  of  his  sentences  were  of  no  account : 
the  one  necessity  was  that  nothing  of  interest 
or  delight  which  the  day  had  contained  should 
be  allowed  to  escape ;  and  his  language,  the 
racy  words  and  loose  structures  of  ordinary  talk, 
was  poured  forth  with  the  sole  object  of  pre- 
venting any  such  loss.  The  result  was  a  style 
which,  with  almost  every  literary  fault  it  is  pos- 
sible to  name,  possesses  the  one  essential  virtue 
— ^life.  This  style  he  unfortunately  felt  it  neces- 
sary, when  addressing  his  friends,  to  lay  aside ; 
and  his  letters  were  generally  written  in  the 
crabbed  and  coagulated  manner  affected  by  his 
contemporaries.  A  large  number  exist,  which 
illustrate  the  events  of  his  later  life ;  but  in 
their  careful  attitudinizing  they  do  not  illustrate 
the  liberal  genius  which  absorbed  experience 
with  such  keen  voracity.  Of  that  we  have 
now  seen  the  last.  So  far  as  we  can  tell,  Pepys 
did  not  continue  his  diary,  as  he  proposed,  by 
the  hand  of  others,  and  the  promised  "notes 


Samuel  Pepys 


199 


in  shorthand  "  of  matters  not  fit  for  every  one 
to  know  do  not  exist.  He  did,  indeed,  later  on, 
keep  another  diary  himself  for  a  time,  but  that 
was  on  a  special  occasion — his  journey  to  Tangier 
— and  the  record  is  not  intimate  enough  to  be 
entertaining  on  personal  grounds.  There  is 
nothing  for  it  but  to  follow  the  outward  events 
of  his  long  life,  with  the  help  of  no  more  than 
an  occasional  hint  to  suggest  that  its  interior 
was  still  as  rich  and  variegated  as  ever. 

The  Diary  ended,  as  we  saw,  with  prepara- 
tions for  a  holiday  abroad.  It  was  not,  however, 
till  the  autumn  of  the  same  year  (1669)  that 
Pepys  and  his  wife  set  out,  armed  with  letters 
of  introduction  from  Evelyn  to  friends  of  his  in 
Paris.  In  earlier  years,  when  life  abroad  had 
been  less  agitating  for  a  peaceable  loyalist  than 
in  England,  Evelyn  had  been  much  in  Paris,  and 
besides  introducing  Pepys  to  men  who  might 
be  useful  to  him  there,  he  provided  him  with 
some  notes  to  help  him  in  sight-seeing.  The 
manuscript,  a  slim  pamphlet,  is  still  to  be  seen  in 


200 


Samuel  Pepys 


the  Pepysian  Library.  In  the  letter  which 
accompanied  it,  Evelyn  further  urged  Pepys  to 
visit  the  print-shops  and  collect  pictures  of 
palaces,  churches,  and  gardens,  to  refresh  him- 
self with  by  the  fireside  after  his  return.  Of 
the  journey  we  have  no  record  beyond  the  fact, 
mentioned  later  on  in  a  letter,  that  it  was  "  full 
of  health  and  content,"  and  that  in  France  and 
Holland  Pepys  made  a  collection  of  papers  rela- 
ting to  the  navies  of  both  countries.  He  reached 
home  again  before  the  end  of  October. 

On  the  very  day  of  their  arrival  in  London 
Mrs.  Pepys  fell  ill.  "I  beg  you  to  believe," 
Pepys  writes  to  Evelyn  on  November  2,  "  that 
I  would  not  have  been  ten  days  returned  into 
England  without  waiting  on  you,  had  it  not 
pleased  God  to  afflict  mee  by  the  sickness  of  my 
wife,  who,  from  the  first  day  of  her  coming  back 
to  London,  hath  layn  under  a  fever  so  severe 
as  at  this  hour  to  render  her  recoverie  desperate." 
She  died  on  November  10,  1669,  aged  twenty- 
nine,  and  was  buried  in  the  neighbouring  church 


I 


u 


Samuel  Pepys 


201 


of  St.  Olave's,  Hart  Street.  The  monument 
which  Pepys  erected  to  her  memory  is  on  the 
north  wall  of  the  chancel.  It  consists  of  an 
elaborately  shaped  bracket  with  a  bust,  and  an 
inscription  on  a  medallion  below.  The  latter 
runs  as  follows — 

H.  S.  E. 

Cui 

CuNAS  DEDiT  SOMERSETIA,  Octob  :  23,  1640. 

Patrem   e  praeclarA  familiA        Matrem  e  nobili  Stirpi 

DE  St.  Michel,  Cliffodorum, 

ANDEGAVIA,  CUMBRIA, 

ELIZABETHA  PEPYS, 

Samvelis  Pepys  (Classi  Regiab  ab  Actis)  Uxor. 

Quae  in  Coenobio  primum,  AulA  dein  educata  GallicA, 

Utriusque  unA  claruit  virtutibus, 

FormA,  Artibus,  Linguis,  cultissima. 

Prolem  enixa,  quia  parem  non  potuit,  nullam. 

huic  demum  placid^  cum  valedixerat 

(CONFECTO   PER   AMAENIORA   FER^   EuROPAE   ITINERE) 
POTIOREM   REDUX   ABUT   LUSTRATURA   MUNDUM. 

ObIIT  X   NOVEMBRIS, 

TAetatis  290. 
Anno  -JConjugii  xv^. 
[Domini  1669°. 

It  is  only  just  to  take  the  difference  between 
this  language  and  the  tone  in  which  the  poor 


202 


Samuel  Pepys 


woman  is  referred  to  over  the  length  and  breadth 
of  the  Diary,  as  measuring  the  depth  of  Pepys' 
sorrow  for  her  loss.  It  is  not  otherwise  easy  to 
read  the  imposing  lines  without  an  unworthy 
smile.  Like  other  epitaphs,  it  commemorates 
the  bereaved  more  than  the  dead. 

Her  death  left  Pepys  entirely  solitary.  He 
had  no  children  to  share  his  home,  his  father 
lived  far  away  in  the  depths  of  the  country,  his 
one  surviving  brother  (who  soon  after  this 
became  Clerk  to  the  Trinity  House)  was  of  little 
use  to  him  as  a  companion.  Though  he  did  not, 
as  he  had  apparently  anticipated,  lose  his  sight,  his 
eyes  seem  to  have  continued  to  trouble  him, 
and  the  long  hours  of  idleness  which  they  forced 
upon  him  were  chiefly  relieved  by  music.  He 
abandoned  his  idea  of  retirement,  and  con- 
tinued for  a  while  to  live  on  at  the  Navy  OflSce. 
His  public  career  went  forward  as  before,  but 
in  the  routine  of  his  private  life  he  must  have 
missed  his  wife  deeply.  He  had  lost  his  temper 
with  her  and  called  her  names  and  neglected 


/ 


I 


Samuel  Pepys 


203 


her,  we  know  exactly  how  often  in  ten  years, 
but  all  the  time  she  had  been  a  very  real  part 
of  his  life ;  his  affection  for  her  had  remained 
a  permanent  background  even  for  their  quarrels 
and  recriminations.  It  is  not  very  likely  that 
he  was  troubled  with  self-reproaches  as  he  looked 
back  on  his  married  life — that  was  not  his  way — 
but  his  house  must  have  seemed  desolate  and 
silent.  A  few  years  later  (the  exact  date  does 
not  appear)  Pepys  moved  from  his  house  in  the 
Navy  Office  to  York  Buildings,  a  block  of  houses 
in  Buckingham  Street,  overlooking  the  river,' 
erected  on  the  site  of  York  House  after  its  demo- 
lition  in  1672.  There  he  had  the  company  of 
his  old  friend  and  former  clerk,  William  Hewer, 
with  whom  he  thenceforward  lived  till  his  death. 
Meanwhile,  before  the  death  of  his  wife, 
Pepys  had  made  his  first  appearance  as  a  candi- 
date for  Parliament.  Neither  he  nor  his  friends 
had  forgotten  his  triumph  at  the  bar  of  the 
House  in  the  previous  year,  and  when  Sir  Robert 
Brooke,  member  for  Aldborough,  died  in  1669, 


204 


Samuel  Pepys 


i 


Pepys  presented  himself  to  fiU  the  vacancy.  He 
was  supported  by  the  express  recommendation 
of  the  Duke  of  York  and  by  the  favour  of  Lord 
Henry  Howard  (afterwards  sixth  Duke  of  Norfolk). 
But  at  the  time  of  the  election  Pepys  was  occu- 
pied by  his  private  sorrow  and  could  take  no 
active  part,  so  that  the  seat  was  lost. 

A   few    months   later    (November,    1670)    he 
appears  for  a  moment  in  a  very  unlikely  light. 
It  seems  that  for  some  reason  a   dispute  had 
arisen  between  him  and  the  Swedish  Resident 
in  England,  Leyenbergh ;     and  a    letter  exists 
from  Matthew  Wren  (who  had  succeeded  Coven- 
try as  Secretary  to  the  Duke  of  York)  to  Pepys, 
conveying  the  King's  command  that  he  was  neither 
to  offer  nor  accept  a  challenge.    It  is  difficult  to 
imagine  Pepys  only  restrained  from  a  duel  by 
royal  command ;   his  diary,  if  he  had  stiU  been 
keeping  one,  would  surely  have  been  good  read- 
ing at  this  point.     No  more  is  heard  of  this 
curious  matter  ;  a  possible  explanation,  suggested 
by  Lord  Braybrooke,  is  that  it  arose  out  of  a  dis- 


Samuel  Pepys 


205 


pute  about  money,  Leyenbergh  having  married 
the  widow  of  Sir  WilHam  Batten,  who  had  died 
in  Pepys'  debt. 

In  1672  came  the  third  Dutch  war,  in  which, 
against  the  sense  of  the  people,  England  was 
momentarily  allied  with  Louis  XIV  against 
Holland.  On  May  28  Sandwich,  who  was  under 
the  Duke  of  York  as  second  in  command  of  the 
English  fleet,  died  in  action  in  Sole  Bay.  His 
body  was  washed  ashore  a  few  days  later  and 
was  buried  with  full  honours  in  Henry  VIPs 
Chapel,  Westminster  Abbey,  Pepys  taking  part 
in  the  long  funeral  procession  as  one  of  "six 
BanneroUes."  Sandwich  had  had  his  fluctuations 
in  public  favour;  during  the  second  Dutch 
war  he  had  been  denounced  for  appropriating 
without  permission  a  share  in  some  East  Indian 
prize-ships  which  had  fallen  into  his  hands,  and 
Albemarle  especially  had  done  what  he  could 
to  prejudice  the  King  and  the  Duke  against 
him,  with  the  result  that  he  had  had  for  a  time 
to   relinquish   his   command  of   the  fleet.     His 


. » 


2o6 


Samuel  Pepys 


patronage  had  long  ceased  to  be  of  any  practical 
importance  to  Pepys,  but  in  their  relations  the 
latter  had,  as  we  have  seen,  always  preserved  a 
certain  deference.  When  at  Brampton,  Pepys 
was  careful  to  pay  his  respects  to  the  family  at 
Hinchingbrooke,  Sandwich's  house  near  Hun- 
tingdon, and  he  took  an  active  interest  in  the 
affairs  of  the  growing  sons  and  daughters.  It 
had  been  altogether  a  happy  and  mutually 
profitable  connexion,  the  harmony  of  which, 
strange  to  say,  had  not  been  disturbed  even  by 
Pepys'  discovery  that  his  wife  had  received  un- 
necessarily warm  attentions  from  both  Sandwich 
and  his  eldest  son.*  But  Mrs.  Pepys  had  ap- 
parently known  how  to  look  after  herself,  and 
no  harm  was  done. 

In  1673,  when  the  Test  Act  was  passed,  the 
Duke  of  York  resigned  all  his  appointments,  and 
the  office  of  Lord  High  Admiral  was  put  into 
commission.  Pepys  was  thereupon  raised  from 
the  Navy  Office  to  be  Secretary  of  the  Admir- 


*  Diary,  November  10,  1668. 


Samuel  Pepys 


207 

alty.i   -It  is  not  easy  to  see  why  he  did  not 
receive  the  honour  of   knighthood,  which   had 
fallen  to  so  many  of  his  associates.    Pepys  would 
surely  have  enjoyed  such  a  distinction,  and  both 
the  King  and  the  Duke  were  fully  aware  that 
he,  if  any  one,  had  earned  it.     By  this  time  he 
was  an  acknowledged  authority  on  aU  matters 
relating  to  the  business  of  the  navy,  and  his  pro- 
motion to  the  Hgher  post  was  obvious  and  just. 
He  succeeded  in   bequeathing  his  former  office 
to  his  brother  John,  and  Thomas  Hayter,  one 
of  his  clerks,  who  held  it  jointly. 

In  the  meantime  another  opportunity  had 
offered  itself  of  obtaining  a  seat  in  Parliament. 
For  some  months  it  had  been  expected  that  Sir 
Robert  Paston,  member  for  Castle  Rising,  in 
Norfolk,  would  be  given  a  peerage,  and  Pepys 
had    been    preparing    to    stand    whenever   the 

»  TTie  Admiralty  had  before  this  been  more  than  once  !n 
comm.ss:on.  When,  a,  during  the  years  1660-73,  the  office 
was  held  by  one  person,  the  "  Secretary  of  the  Admiralty  » 
wa,  represented  merely  by  the  private  secretary  of  the  Lord 


H.^ 


208 


Samuel  Pepys 


vacancy  should    occur.    Lord  Henry  Howard's 
influence  was  strong  at  Castle  Rising,  and  might 
be  relied  on  to  be  more  effective  than  it  had  been 
at  Aldborough.     Unfortunately,  when  the  Duke 
of  York  bespoke  it  for  Pepys,  Howard  had  already 
pledged  himself  to  the  King  for  one  candidate 
and  to  the  Duchess  of  Cleveland  (Lady  Castle- 
maine)  for  another.     However,  by  the  time  that 
the  sitting   member  had   obtained  his   peerage 
(he   became  Viscount   Yarmouth  in   1673)   the 
difficulty  had   been  solved,   other  seats  having 
been  obtained  for  both  the  other  candidates ; 
and   on    November   4,    1673,    Pepys   was    duly 
elected,  though  not  unopposed.     The  defeated 
candidate,   whose   name   was   Offley,   brought   a 
petition  against   the  return,   and   the   election, 
for  reasons  which  do  not  appear,  was  declared 
by  the  Committee  of  Privileges  to  be  void ;  but 
as  the  House  had  come  to  no  decision  on  the 
matter  when  Parliament  was  shortly  afterwards 
prorogued  Pepys  was  allowed  to  retain  his  seat. 
It  was  in  this  affair  that  the  facile  charge  of 


Samuel  Pepys 


209 

Popery  was  first  brought  against  Pepys.     To  us, 
who  have  such  far  greater  opportunities  of  know- 
ing his  inner  opinions  than  had  any  of  his  con- 
temporaries, it  seems  decidedly  incongruous  that 
Pepys  of  aU  men  should  have  suffered  religious 
persecution.     There    certainly   was    nothing    in 
his   unobtrusive   orthodoxy  to  provoke  it,   nor 
was  he  of  the  stuff  of  which  martyrs  are  made. 
Yet  a  large  part  of  the  proceedings  in  the  House 
with  regard  to  the  Castle  Rising  election  was  taken 
up  in  considering  a  vague  statement  to  the  effect 
that  an  altar  and  a  crucifix  had  been  seen  in 
Pepys'  house.     This  entirely  irrelevant  matter- 
for  even  if  the  statement  could  be  substantiated 
it  did  not  prove  Pepys   to  be  a    Papist-was 
debated  at  length,  and  Pepys  had  to  set  to  work 
to  clear  himself.    He  undoubtedly  had  at  one 
time    possessed    something    which   he    called    a 
crucifix,  though  he  seems  by  that  to  have  meant 
a  picture  of  the  Crucifixion.     «  So  I  away  to 
Lovett's,"  he  had  written  in  his  Diary,  July  20, 
1666,  «  there  to  see  how  my  picture  goes  on  to 

•4 


I 


/■' 


2IO 


Samuel  Pepys 


be  varnished,  a  fine  crucifix  which  will  be  very 
fine."  And  again  on  November  3,  "  This  morn- 
ing comes  Mr.  Lovett  and  brings  me  my  print 
of  the  passion,  varnished  by  him,  and  the  frame 
which  is  indeed  very  fine,  though  not  so  fine  as  I 
expected ;  however,  pleases  me  exceedingly." 
But  in  spite  of  this,  the  Journals  of  the  House  of 
Commons  record  that  when  the  charge  was 
brought,  "  Mr.  Pepys,  standing  up  in  his  place, 
did  heartily  and  flatly  deny  that  he  ever  had  any 
Altar  or  Crucifix,  or  the  image  or  picture  of 
any  Saint  whatsoever  in  his  house,  from  the 
top  to  the  bottom  of  it."  He  suggested  as  a 
possible  explanation  of  the  report  that  what 
had  been  taken  for  an  altar  was  really  a  small 
table  which  stood  in  his  closet,  with  a  Bible 
and  Prayer  Book  and  The  Whole  Duty  ofMan^  also 
a  basin  and  ewer,  and  his  wife's  portrait  hanging 
above  it.  It  appeared  that  the  report  originated 
with  the  Earl  of  Shaftesbury,  and  Sir  J.  Banks 
was  also  mentioned  as  having  given  similar  in- 
formation.    Upon  examination  Shaftesbury  said 


Samuel  Pepys 


211 


he  had  an  indistinct  remembrance  of  something 
which  he  believed  to  be  a  crucifix,  but  added 
that  his  memory  was  too  vague  for  him  to  give 
testimony   upon    oath.     Banks    entirely    denied 
having  ever  seen  or  reported  anything  of  the 
kind.     Sir  W.  Coventry,  who  had  been  deputed 
to  question  Shaftesbury,  sensibly  observed  that 
there  would  be  a  great  many  more  Catholics 
than  thought  themselves  so,  if  having  a  crucifix 
would  make  one ;    and  the  matter  was  dropped. 
Pepys'  repudiation  of  the  charge  was  undoubt- 
edly disingenuous,  for  he  could  hardly  have  for- 
gotten all  about  the  fine  crucifix  which  had  not 
been  so  fine  as  he  expected,  but  in  the  conscious- 
ness of  his  real  orthodoxy  he  kept  to  the  spirit  if 
not  to  the  letter  of  the  truth.     He  probably 
felt  that  in  the  excited  temper  of  the  times  it 
was  prudent  to  keep  well  on  the  safe  side,  and 
to   admit   nothing   that   could    by    any    possi- 
bility be  used  to  damage  him,  however  unjustly. 
The    barest    suspicion    of    Popery  was    by  this 
time    a    real    danger,  and    Pepys'  position    was 


212 


Samuel  Pepys 


now  too  conspicuous  to  allow   him  to  take  any 
risks. 

There  further  exists  among  Pepys'  papers  an 
interesting  document  of  this  time  which  shows 
that  he  was  also  laid  under  the  imputation  of 
having  perverted  his  wife  to  Popery.  A  letter, 
dated  February  8,  1674,  f^*^^  ^^^  brother-in- 
law,  Balthazar  St.  Michel,  is  endorsed  by  Pepys 
to  the  effect  that  it  was  written  particularly  to 
clear  him  from  this  charge,  of  which  we  hear 
nothing  elsewhere.  During  the  year  before  her 
death  Mrs.  Pepys  had,  as  we  have  seen,  alarmed 
him  by  announcing  that  she  was  really  a  Roman 
Catholic,  though  he  was  afterwards  relieved  to 
find  that  she  still  went  to  church  with  him  as  a 
matter  of  course.  Vague  as  it  was,  her  Catho- 
licism had  apparently  been  known  to  others,  and 
was  now  to  be  used  as  a  handle  against  her 
husband.  Her  brother  Balthazar  (known  in  the 
family  as  Baity),  a  needy  personage  in  various 
ways  indebted  to  Pepys,  could  be  relied  upon 
for  help  in  this  matter.     He  was  married  and 


Samuel  Pepys 


213 


settled  at  Deal  as  "  muster  master,"  and  seems 
to  have  enjoyed  acting  up  to  the  part  of  the 
humble  and  grateful  relative.     There  is  a  Micaw- 
ber-hke  volubility  and  relish  in  a  letter  from 
him  to  Pepys  of  August  14,  1672.     "  Hon'd  Sir," 
he  begins,  "  you  dayly  and  howerly  soe  comble 
me  with  (not  only  expressions  but  aUsoe)  deeds 
of  your  worthyness  and  goodness,  as  weU  to  my 
selfe  as  the  rest  of  your  most  devoted  humble 
creaturs  heare,"  and  so  forth,  leading  up  to  a 
postscript :    "  LiteU  Samuel  (whoe  speakes  now 
very  pretely)  desiers  to  have  his  most  humble  duty 
presented  to  his  most  honrd.  Uncle  and  God- 
father, which  please  to  accept  from  your  most 
humble  liteU  disiple."    Not  Micawber  only,  it 
will  be  observed,  but  a  decided  touch  of  Uriah. 
We   can  imagine   the   faithful   creature  readily 
sitting  down,  upon  invitation,  to  a  letter  in  his 
most   exalted   vein   upon   the   strong   unsulUed 
Protestantism  which  had  aU  her  life  been  Mrs. 
Pepys'  most  remarkable  characteristic.     It  is  an 
egregious  document,  but  gives  useful  details  of 


214 


Samuel  Pepys 


the  early  history  of  the  St.  Michel  family,  some  of 
which  have  been  quoted  in  a  previous  chapter. 
All  this  disturbance  is  a  valuable  sign  of  the 
times,  showing  the  extent  to  which  popular 
imagination  could  be  worked  upon  by  the  barest 
suggestion  of  Popish  practices.  There  could 
be  no  heartier  advocate  of  conformity  than 
Pepys,  who  had  always  desired  before  all  things  to 
hit  the  right  mean  between  heterodoxy  and  an 
inconvenient  bigotry.  Such  matters,  he  con- 
sidered, ought  not  to  be  so  prominent  one  way 
or  another  as  to  call  for  special  notice.  Any 
obtrusion  of  them  was  indecent  and  uncomfort- 
able. "  I  would  to  God,"  he  had  once  written, 
on  seeing  the  arrest  of  a  party  of  schismatics, 
"  they  would  either  conform,  or  be  more  wise 
and  not  be  catched,"  ^  and  it  was  a  cry  from  the 
heart.  Quakers  he  felt  to  be  dangerous  people, 
as  likely  to  upset  that  conventional  respect- 
ability of  beliefs  which  was  at  once  so  easy 
and  so  safe.     After  reading  the  younger  Penn's 


1  Diary,  August  7,   1664. 


Samuel  Pepys 


215 


Sandy  Foundation  Shaken  he  makes  the  character- 
istic remark  that  it  is  "  a  serious  sort  of  book, 
and  not  fit  for  everybody  to  read."  ^  Yet  the 
tension  of  public  anxiety  was  such  that  it  was 
worth  an  enemy's  while  to  raise  a  scare  even 
against  a  man  so  little  inclined  to  be  subversive 
as  Pepys.  In  this  case,  indeed,  it  was  not  clear 
who  had  been  at  the  bottom  of  the  rumour  ; 
but  inasmuch  as  Shaftesbury  reappears  presently 
in  another  attack  on  Pepys,  his  refusal  to  identify 
himself  with  the  charge  may  have  been  merely 
diplomatic.  Anyhow,  Pepys  had  not  reached  his 
distinguished  office  without  incurring  a  certain 
amount  of  ill-will,  and  his  bearing  was  not 
always  judicious.  An  amusing  piece  of  evidence 
to  this  effect  survives  in  the  Parliamentary 
Debates  a  few  years  later.  On  May  11,  1678, 
Pepys  had  occasion  to  speak  on  a  question  of 
naval  supply,  and  delivered  himself  in  a  somewhat 
pompous  manner,  as  though  the  navy  and  every- 
thing to  do  with  it  depended  solely  upon  him- 

^  Ibid.  Februaiy   12,   1669. 


^  (  t] 


( 


/^ 


2l6 


Samuel  Pepys 


self.     "  Pepys,"  interposed  another  member,  Sir 
Robert  Howard,   "here   speaks    rather   like    an 
Admiral  than  a  Secretary,  *  I'  and  '  we.'     I  wish 
he  knows  half  as  much  of  the  Navy  as  he  pre- 
tends."    Whether  it  was  as  much  as  he  pretended, 
it  certainly  was  more  than  any  one  else  knew, 
and  it  is  easy  to  believe  that  he  made  the  most 
of  it  in  his  behaviour.     But  after  the  affair  of 
the   varnished   crucifix  had   been   dropped,   his 
Protestantism  at  any  rate  was  for  some  years 
free  from  attack. 

In    1676  he   became   Master   of  the   Trinity 
House,  and  in  1677  Master  of  the  Clothworkers' 
Company.     To  the  latter  he  presented  a  fine 
set  of  plate— cup,  rose-water  dish,  and  ewer— 
which  is  still  in  use  at  the  dinners  of  the  Com- 
pany.    We  also  hear  of  him  in  the  same  year 
officiating    as    steward    at    the    Feast    of    the 
Hon.  Artillery   Company,    which   was   held   at 
Merchant    Taylors'    Hall    and    attended    by    a 
distinguished  party  of  guests. 
Except    for   these    brief   glimpses,  we    learn 


Samuel  Pepys 


217 


nothing  of  Pepys'  public  life  between  1674  and 
1679.     Sut  a  correspondence  between  him  and  a 
friend  of  his,  a  merchant  named  Thomas  Hill, 
throws  light  on  his  domestic  interior  at  this  time. 
Writing  from  Lisbon  in  1673,  and  again  in  the 
following  year,  Hill  recommends  to  Pepys'  notice 
a  young  Italian    musician,  Cesare   Morelli,  who 
desired  to  find  employment  in  England.      "  I 
am  certain  you  will  like  his  voice,"  he  says; 
"  his  manner  of  singing  is  alia  Italiana  di  tutta 
perfettione:'    Pepys,   who   now   principally   de- 
pended for  recreation  upon  music,  was  pleased 
with  the  idea  of  taking  a  trained  performer  into 
his  service,  to  be  always  at  hand  when  wanted. 
But  he  was  careful  not  to  raise  too  high  expecta- 
tions.    "I  have  only  one  thing,"  he  answers, 
"  by  way  of  preface,  to  note  to  you  ;    namely, 
that   nothing   which   has   yet,   or   may   further 
happen,  towards  the  rendering  me  more  con- 
spicuous in  the  world,  has  led  or  can  ever  lead 
to   the   admitting   any  alteration  in   the  little 
methods  of  my  private  way  of  living ;   as  having 


\A 


I 


i|1 


V 

i 


2l8 


Samuel  Pepys 


not  in  my  nature  any  more  aversion  to  sordid- 
ness  than  I  have  to  pomp,  and  in  particular 
that  sort  of  it  which  consists  in  the  length  and 
trouble  of  such  a  train  (I  mean  of  servants  for 
state  only)  as  the  different  humour  of  some,  and 
greater  quality  of  others,  do  sometimes  call  for." 
The  upshot  is  that  he  offers  Morelli  ^30  a  year 
to  enter  his  service.  The  offer  was  promptly 
accepted,  and  Morelli  was  installed  in  the  simple 
household  of  York  Buildings.  A  large  collec- 
tion of  music,  copied,  arranged,  or  composed  by 
the  young  Italian,  and  still  to  be  seen  in  the 
Pepysian  Library,  testifies  to  the  long  evenings 
which  the  two  spent  in  making  music  together. 
"  I  have  entertained  myself  harmlessly  with 
him,"  said  Pepys  later  on,  "  singing  with  his  lute, 
till  twelve  o'clock,  when  it  was  time  to  rest." 
This  peaceful  picture  is  certainly  in  strong 
contrast  with  the  less  idyllic  pleasures  of  a  few 
years  before,  when  music  had  only  been  one  of 
the  crowd  of  delights  with  which  his  days  were 
filled.     But  it  is  likely  enough  that  with  middle 


s 


i\ 


Samuel  Pepys 


219 


age  (he  was  now  past  forty)  and  the  increasing 
publicity  of  his  position  he  may  have  kept,  both 
from  inclination   and   from  prudence,   to   pur- 
suits which  could  be  freely  revealed  to  the  world. 
In  those  excited  times,   however,   there  was 
no  telling  what  innocent  habits  might  not  be 
misinterpreted.     Pepys'  long  and  intimate  assor 
elation  with  James  was  enough  in  itself  to  throw 
doubt  on  his  Protestantism.     "Whether  I  will 
or  no,"  he  writes  to  the  Duke,  "  a  Papist  I  must 
be,  because  favoured  by  your  Royal  Highness." 
It  appeared  in  the  autumn  of  1678  that  the  same 
kind  of  reasoning  was  to  be  applied  to  Morelli ;  a 
priest  he  must  be,  because  a  Papist  and  a  foreigner, 
and  if  a  priest,  a  spy  and  Jesuit  in  Pepys'  employ. 
The  best  refutation  of  such  a  slander  would  be 
to    make   a    Protestant    of   him    before   further 
trouble  came  of  it.     Pepys  accordingly  invited 
James  Houblon,  one  of  the  well-known  Hugue- 
not family  of  that  name,  to  sound  him  on  the 
subject.    Houblon,  in  a  letter  dated  November 
2,  1678,  describes  how  he  tried  to  shake  Morelli's 


15 


\\ 


^ 


/ 


220 


Samuel  Pepys 


\ 


faith   in    the    Roman    doctrines    by   urging   the 
wicked  and  unlawful  policies  with  which  so  many 
Popes   and   Cardinals   had   pursued   their   aims. 
It  was  an  unsound  argument,  as  indeed  he  ad- 
mitted to  Pepys ;  and  Morelli  was  not  convinced. 
Failing  his  conversion,  it  was  necessary,  in  view 
of  a  proclamation  now  issued,  warning  all  Roman 
Catholics  to  leave  town,  that  he  should  retire 
from  his  employer's  household,  at  any  rate  for 
a   time.    He   was   accordingly   dispatched   into 
the  country,  with  directions  to  occupy  his  leisure 
in  arranging  Pepys'  collection  of  music. 

But  the  terror  of  the  Popish  Plot  was  by  this 
time  at  its  height,  and  accusations  of  Catholicism 
were  as  difficult  to  repel  as  they  were  easy  to 
make.  The  murdered  body  of  Sir  Edmund 
Berry  Godfrey  had  been  discovered  on  October 
17,  and  rumours  of  an  imminent  massacre  of 
Protestants  flew  round  as  in  the  time  of  the  Great 
Fire  twelve  years  before.  London  hummed 
with  preparations  for  defence.  The  train-bands 
patrolled  the  streets  at  night,  and  kept  a  fierce 


n 


Samuel  Pepys 


221 


look-out  for  suspicious  characters.    Pepys  him- 
self was   busily  employed,   as  is   shown   by  the 
collection    of    naval    correspondence    which    he 
preserved  in  his  library,  in   taking  precautions 
against  a  surprise  of  the  fleet.^    The  southern 
coasts  were  narrowly  watched  in  fear  of  a  French 
invasion.    That  there  might  be  no  chance  of 
Popish  inclinations  among  the  officers,  the  Test 
Act  was  carefully  enforced  throughout  the  fleet. 
Pepys  was  as  active  in  all  these  alarms  as  a  good 
Secretary  and  a  good  Protestant  could  be.     But 
he  ran  the  risk  of  being  involved  in  dangerous 
suspicions  when  in  December  of  this  year  (1678) 
his  own  head  clerk,  Samuel  Atkins,  was  brought 
to  trial  on  the  charge  of  having  been  accessory 
to  the  murder  of  Sir  Edmund  Berry  Godfrey. 
Pepys'   old   enemy,    Shaftesbury,  duly   tried   to 
implicate  him  in  the  matter  by  an  attempt  to 
extract  evidence  against  him  out  of  Atkins.    The 
latter  was  able,  with  Pepys'  active  help,  to  estab- 

1  See  "  Pepys    and    the    Popish    Plot,"    by  J.    R.  Tanner 
(English  Historical  Review,  April,  1892). 


ii 


1:, 


222 


\' 


i 


i 


l\ 


Samuel  Pepys 


lish  an  alihi^  and  was  eventually  acquitted  after 
having  been  examined  before  a  committee  of 
the  House  of  Lords.  But  the  incident,  ground- 
less as  was  the  charge,  served  to  keep  Pepys' 
name  associated  with  ideas  of  treachery— an 
association  of  which  his  enemies  were  ready  to 
take  advantage  when  occasion  offered. 

The    opportunity    came    before    long.     Early 
in  1679  ^^  general  election  took  place  for  the 
short  Parliament  of  that  year.     Two  candidates 
who  appeared  in  opposition  to  Pepys  at  Castle 
Rising  had  been  busily  spreading  there  the  report 
of  his  Popish  sympathies.    But  as  he  was  now 
invited  to  stand  for  three  other  constituencies- 
Portsmouth,   the  Isle  of  Wight  boroughs,  and 
Harwich— he  was  able  to  bid  Castle  Rising  a 
dignified  adieu.    He  accepted  the  invitation  of 
Harwich,    where    he    was    accordingly    elected, 
his  colleague  being  Sir  Anthony  Deane.     The 
old    prejudices    followed    him    there,    however, 
and  shortly  after  the  election  we  find  him  writing 
to  one  of  his  constituents,  "touching  the  dis- 


ii 


Samuel  Pepys 


223 


courses  you  have  met  with  in  your  neighbour- 
hood, about  the  election  Harwich  has  made  in 
their  choice  of  Sir  Anthony  Deane  and  me,  as  if 
he  were  an  Atheist,  and  myself  a  Papist."    Pepys 
indignantly    repudiates    both    charges.    Sir    A. 
Deane,  he  says,  «  hath  too  much  wit  to  be  an 
Atheist  ...  and  as  for  my  being  a  Papist,  let 
them  but  examine  the  entries  in  the  Parliament 
books,  upon  occasion  of  a  controversy  some  time 
happening  between  a  great  Lord  and  myself  upon 
that  subject ;  and  they  shall  find  such  a  trial  and 
proof  of  my  Protestancy,  as  I  doubt  no  private 
man  in  England  can  show  but  myself  upon  record 
in    Parliament."!    Harassed    by  suspicion    and 
ill-wiU,  Pepys  pours  out  his  troubles  in  a  long 
and  interesting  letter,  dated  May  6,   1679,  to 
his  faithful  friend  the  Duke  of  York,  who  had 
retired   from   popular   outcries    to   the   Hague. 
The    Admiralty    Commission    had    lately    been 
reconstituted,  and  Pepys  gives  a  pathetic  account 
of  the  increasing  difficulties  of  his  position.    Of 

»  Pepys  to  Captain  I,angley,  March  6,  1679. 


'f! 


»l 


% 


\  1 


ill 


1 1 


/ 


ff  ''I 


». 


224 


Samuel  Pepys 


Samuel  Pepys 


the  Commissioners,  some  kept  up  an  appear- 
ance of  friendliness  towards  him,  but  that,  he 
judged,  was  only  due  to  the  "  necessaryness 
of  my  service  to  them  till  they  have  obtained 
a  stock  of  knowledge  of  their  own ;  and  then 
farewell !  '*  others  were  frankly  hostile,  making 
no  secret  of  their  opinion  that  the  old  confi- 
dential relations  between  Pepys  and  the  Duke 
were  a  source  of  danger,  and  that  as  long  as 
Pepys  was  Secretary  James  remained  in  eflfect 
Admiral.  In  another  way,  too,  it  was  an  impos- 
sible situation.  Pepys  had  a  far  wider  know- 
ledge and  longer  experience  of  naval  matters 
than  most  of  the  Commissioners,  and  found 
himself  "  charged  with  a  new  piece  of  duty, 
and  that  not  a  little  one,  of  informing  those 
who  should  inform  and  are  to  command  me," 
besides  being  held  accountable  for  any  ill  success 
that  might  result  from  their  commands,  if  his 
advice  were  disregarded.  The  upshot  of  his 
lament  is  that  he  longs  to  be  relieved  of  "  this 
odious   Secretaryship,"   and   begs   the   Duke   to 


225 

support  the  application  he  is  making  to  the  King 
to  grant  him  either  a  place  upon  the  Admiralty 
Commission  itself  or  at  least  some  other  pro- 
vision "  as  one  superannuated  in  his  service." 
The  Duke  at  once  wrote  a  letter  to  the  King, 
pointing  out  how  necessary  it  was,  in  view  of 
the  rawness  of  the  new  Commissioners,  that 
Pepys'  services  should  be  retained,  and  urging 
that  he  should  be  given  the  promotion  he  asked 
for.  This  letter  was  dated  from  Brussels,  May 
22,  1679.  On  that  very  day  Pepys  and  Sir 
Anthony  Deane  were  committed  to  the  Tower 
under  the  Speaker's  warrant  on  a  charge  of 
having  conducted  a  treasonable  correspondence 
with  the  French  Government.  Thomas  Hayter 
was  at  the  same  time  promoted  to  be  Secretary 
of  the  Admiralty  in  Pepys'  place. 

The  prime  instigator  of  this  new  attack 
appears  to  have  been  a  certain  Mr.  William 
Harbor d.  Member  of  Parliament  for  Thetford, 
and  afterwards  Surveyor-General  of  the  Land 
Revenues  of  the  Crown.    He  was  a  bitter  opponent 

15 


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Samuel  Pepys 


of  Pepys,  and  at  this  juncture  was  able  to  join 
forces    against    him    with    an    adventurer    and 
swindler  named  John  Scott.    This  man,  who  called 
himself  Colonel  Scott,  had  an  old  grudge  against 
Pepys.    Some   time   before   he   had    been    dis- 
covered   in    a     fraud    by    a    Kentish    widow 
named  Dorothea  Gotherson,  to  whose  husband 
he  had  sold  lands  in  the  State  of  New  York  over 
which  it  appeared  that  he  had  no  rights.    The 
petition   for   redress   which   she   presented   had 
been  entrusted  by  the  Duke  of  York  to  Pepys 
for    investigation.    With    the    help    of    Samuel 
Atkins,  Pepys  collected  a  large  body  of  evidence 
against  Scott,  which  showed  him  to  have  been 
convicted  at  different  times  of  various   fraudu- 
lent  proceedings   in  America,  France,  Holland 
and    England.    At    the    time    of     the    Popish 
Plot  this  same  man  was  associated  with  Titus 
Oates  and  the  whole  flourishing  school  of  black- 
mailers and  informers.    He  welcomed  an  oppor- 
tunity of  revenge  against  Pepys,  and  could  be 
trusted  to  produce  circumstantial  charges. 


i  \ 


Samuel  Pepys 


227 

The  charges  whichl^T^^^^^dh^^ 
a   Parliamentary   "  Committee  of  Enquiry  into 
the  miscarriages  of  the  navy  "  were  fuU  of  lurid 
detail.^    He  aUeged  that  the  Treasurer-General 
of  the  French  navy  had  shown  him  a  number  of 
papers,  containing  drawings  of  English  ships,  maps 
of  the  coast,  and  information  as  to  the  strength 
and  condition  of  the  fleet,  which  had  been  sold  to 
the  French  Government  by  Pepys,  Sir  Anthony 
Deane    acting    as    an   intermediary.     Evidence 
was   further   given   by  John   James,   a    former 
butler  of  Pepys',  to  shew  that  the   Secretary  of 
the  Admiralty  was  reaUy  a  secret  Papist.    James 
based  his  accusation  solely  on  the  suspicious  pre- 
sence of  Morelli  in  Pepys'  household.      This  man 
he  declared,  used  to  say  mass  at  the  Queen's 
Chapel,  and  was  frequently  closeted  with  Pepys 
tiU  a  late  hour,   singing  psalms.    MorelH    had 
beads  and  pictures,  and  a  private  door  to  his 
room,  which  apparently  was  considered  to  savour 
of  Jesuitry.    Pepys   made   Hs   defence   in    the 

^  Grey's  DehaUs,  rol.  vii,  p.  303  ff. 


I 


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Samuel  Pepys 


V 


\^ 


<^ 


House  of  Commons  on  May  20.     He  pointed  out 

that  the  House  had  nothing  but  Scott's  word 

for    the    charges.     "He    tells    you,"    exclaimed 

Pepys,  "  that  the  papers  in  France,  etc.,  were 

signed  by  me.     'Tis  Scott's  'Tea,   by  report ' ; 

'tis  my  '  No,  before  God  Almighty.' "    As  for 

James,   he    had    been    dismissed    from    Pepys' 

service    for    misbehaviour,    and    this    was     his 

retaliation.     Pepys   gave  the   true  and    simple 

explanation  of  Morelli  and  the  psalm-singing  ;  the 

innocent  musician,  who  was  living  in  the  country 

in  all  harmlessness  and  virtue,   should  appear, 

he  said,  before  the  House  whenever  they  pleased. 

Sir  Anthony   Deane   followed  with  the  no  less 

simple  reasons  for  his  visit  to  France.    He  was  a 

shipbuilder,  and  had  been  commissioned  to  build 

''  two  boats  for  the  Canal  at  Versailles,  the  depth 

of  his  stick,  about  three  foot  and  a  half."    He 

had  gone  over  to  see  them  launched,  at  the  desire 

of  the  King  of  France,  and  had  tried  to  improve 

the  occasion  by  learning  something  about  the 

French   Fleet.    Not   having   one  word   of  the 


\  \x 


Samuel  PePys 


229 


language,  he  had  been  unable  to  discover  much, 
though  he  had  seen  enough  to  show  him  that 
the  French  had  no  need  for  instruction  in  naval 
matters   from   the   English.    He   never   carried 
script  nor  scroH  from  Mr.  Pepys,  if  it  was  the 
last  word  he  should  ever  speak.    An  inconclu- 
sive debate  ensued,  and  two  days  later  it  was 
ordered  that  Pepys  and  Deane  should  be  sent  to 
the  Tower,  to  await  prosecution  by  the  Attor- 
ney-General  for  the  crimes  of  which  they  were 
accused. 

The  burden  of  proof  clearly  rested  in  justice 
upon  Pepys'  traducers.    He  was,  however,  ex- 
pected to  produce  positive  evidence  that  the 
charges  were  without  foundation,  and  he  had 
to   incur   considerable   expense   in   hunting   up 
witnesses.     A  certain  Edward  D'Oyly  chose  this 
inopportune  moment  to  beg  for  a  loan  of  fifty 
pounds,  but  Pepys  assured  him  that  his  imprison- 
ment had  been  so  sudden  and  unexpected  that 
his  affairs  had  been  thrown  into  great  disorder, 
and  that  he  had  to  be  beholden  to  friends  to  pay 


!■  1 


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!| 


IH 


11 


230 


Samuel  Pepys 


his  very  expenses  in  the  Tower  for  him.  His 
friends  indeed  rallied  round  him  and  did  what 
they  could.  Evelyn  notes  in  his  Diary  (June  4, 
1679)  •  "  I  dined  with  Mr.  Pepys  in  the  Tower, 
he  having  been  committed  by  the  House  of 
Commons  for  misdemeanours  in  the  Admiralty 
when  he  was  Secretary;  I  believe  he  was  un- 
justly charged  "  ;  and  again  on  July  3,  "  Sending 
a  piece  of  venison  to  Mr.  Pepys,  still  a  prisoner, 
I  went  and  dined  with  him."  Pepys  and  Deane 
had  before  this  been  brought  before  the  King's 
Bench,  but  had  been  refused  bail.  They  'were 
afterwards,  however,  allowed  to_  find  security  for 
;^30,ooo. 

Their  first  necessity  was  to  send  some  one  to 
France  to  collect  proofs  of  their  innocence.  For 
this  task  Pepys  selected  Balthazar  St.  Michel,  who, 
with  his  knowledge  of  the  language  and  his 
grateful  affection  for  his  brother-in-law,  was  the 
obvious  person  to  undertake  it.  He  had  next 
to  repel  the  insinuation  that  he  had  harboured  a 
disguised  priest  in  his  household.    In  a  letter  to 


Samuel  Pepys 


231 


Morelli  (still  in  retirement  in  the  country),  dated 
September  25,  1679,  ^^  ^'^^  ^"^  ^^  ^^^  down 
particulars  of  his  life  and  condition  before  coming 
to  England.  In  the  following  month,  when  term 
began,  Pepys  had  his  case  in  readiness  and  only 
desired  that  the  trial  should  come  on  as  soon 
as  possible.  But  neither  Scott  nor  Harbord 
appeared,  and  there  was  apparently  nothing  for 
it  but  to  wait  till  the  end  of  term  in  expectation 
of  their  coming  forward  by  that  time.  "My 
friends,  indeed,"  writes  Pepys,  "  please  themselves 
with  an  opinion  of  my  being  then  discharged ; 
and  by  the  course  of  the  court,  I  am  told  I  ought 
to  be,  in  case  my  adversaries  continue  silent. 
But  then,  (which  is  an  evil  equal  to  any  I  have 
sustained,)  my  being  discharged  in  that  manner, 
without  a  trial,  leaves  me  liable  to  the  same 
vexation  whenever  the  same  malignity  of  my 
enemies  shall  meet  with  the  like  juncture  of 
state  circumstances,  and  prompt  them  to  my 
mischief."  ^    Pepys,   as   he    feared,   was   denied 

^  Pepys  to  Mrs.  Skinner,  October  24,  1679. 


1 


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232 


Samuel  Pepys 


the  satisfaction  of  establishing  his  innocence  in 
public.  The  prosecution  never  took  place,  for 
Scott  refused  in  the  end  to  stand  to  his  depo- 
sition. On  February  12,  1680,  Pepys  and  Deane 
obtained  their  discharge. 

It  was  an  unsatisfactory  climax,  and,  as  Pepys 
foresaw,    did    not    preclude    the    possibility    of 
similar  vexations  in  the  future.    But  his  present 
accusers,  at  any  rate,  were  thoroughly  discredited. 
Only  a   few  days  after  Pepys'  release  from  bail, 
news  reached  him  that  John  James  was  on  his 
death-bed  and  desired  to  ease  his  conscience  of  a 
burden.     Pepys  sent  an  impartial  friend  to  hear 
his  confession,  which  was  to  the  eflFect  that  he 
had  been  bribed  by  Mr.  William  Harbord  to  come 
forward  with  his  fabrications  about  his   former 
master's  Popery.    Pepys  might  well  bless  Provi- 
dence, as  he  did  in  a  letter  to  Morelli,  for  this 
prompt  and  unlooked-for  vindication.    Nor  had 
he  to  wait  long  to  see  trouble  overtake  the  malig- 
nant Scott.    The  Colonel's  next  public  adven- 
ture was  the  murder  of  a  hackney  coachman  in 


• 


Samuel  Pepys 


233 


1682.  He  escaped  justice  only  by  flight,  and 
had  to  spend  many  years  in  seclusion  in  Norway, 
till  in  1696  he  obtained  a  pardon  and  returned 
home.  Mr.  William  Harbord  never  properly 
suffered  for  his  calumnious  attack  on  Pepys, 
though  incriminating  documents  were  found 
among  Scott's  papers  after  his  flight.  Harbord 
sat  on  in  Parliament  for  Thetford,  became  a 
Privy  Councillor,  and  finally  Ambassador  to 
Turkey.  He  died  at  Belgrade  in  1692.  But  after 
the  failure  of  his  instruments,  Scott  and  James, 
he  appears  to  have  left  Pepys  alone. 


<\  I 


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Chapter  VII 

AFTER  nearly  twenty  years  of  continuous 
association  with  naval  affairs,  Pepys  in 
1680  found  himself  out  of  office.  He 
had  latterly,  since  the  resignation  of  the  Duke 
of  York,  been  brought  into  much  closer  contact 
with  the  King  than  before.  We  know  what  he 
thought  of  Charles  in  earlier  days,  of  his  neglect 
of  public  affairs,  of  his  moth-hunting  at  Lady 
Castlemaine's ;  and  it  is  unfortunate  that  we  have 
no  means  of  discovering  his  maturer  opinion  now 
that  he  came  to  know  him  well.  We  have  not 
even  any  of  the  frequent  correspondence  which 
must  have  passed  between  them.  Unregenerate 
as  he  was  in  other  ways,  Charles'  practice  in  the 
matter  of  public  business  was  by  this  time  very 
different  from  what  it  had  been  twenty  years 
before.     He  was  a  politician  now,  giving  full 


131 


Samuel  Pepys 


235 


play  to  his  great  abilities  in  that  line  as  the 
issue  between  the  nation  and  his  house  grew 
more  and  more  acute.  He  had  no  legitimate 
children,  and  the  heir  to  the  throne  was  an 
avowed  Roman  Catholic,  two  circumstances  the 
effect  of  which  was  to  make  him  surrender  his 
leisure  and  face  years  of  laborious  intrigue.  With 
politics,  strictly  so  called,  Pepys  had  no  doubt 
very  little  to  do  ;  but  he  must  have  had  plenty  of 
opportunities  of  appreciating  the  King's  shrewd- 
ness and  capacity,  for  in  everything  connected 
with  the  navy,  shipbuilding  in  particular,  Charles 
was  by  nature  keenly  interested.  It  would  be 
their  personal  rather  than  their  official  relation, 
however,  that  would  be  the  more  interesting  to 
watch,  being  at  the  same  time  the  more  difficult 
to  infer.  As  the  first  authority  on  naval  affairs, 
Pepys  would  obviously  be  welcome  to  Charles, 
while  Charles  would  certainly  know  how  to 
make  his  own  knowledge  and  intelligence  welcome 
to  Pepys.  But  when  it  was  not  a  question  of  the 
navy,  what  did  they  think  of  each  other  as  com- 


j 
9 


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i 


236 


Samuel  Pepys 


panious  \  Both,  we  know,  had,  as  companions, 
very  particular  qualities  :  Charles  had  his  irony, 
his  powers  of  criticism  and  observation,  his 
conversational  charm  when  he  chose  to  exert  it  ; 
Pepys  had  his  promiscuous  relish  for  life,  his  over- 
flowing interests,  his  greedy  appreciation  of  mirth. 
We  can  hardly  believe  that  these  diverse  gifts 
failed  altogether  to  interact  or  to  throw  each 
other  into  agreeable  relief.  This  is  not  the 
place  to  explore  the  speculative  possibilities  of 
their  intercourse ;  but  for  a  novelist,  of  the 
variety  known  as  "  historical,''  such  a  quest 
should  surely  have  attractions  worth  ascertaining. 
Pepys  several  times  visited  the  King  at  New- 
market during  these  years  when  he  was  out  of 
office,  so  that  it  was  not  only  in  connexion  with 
official  matters  that  his  company  was  desired. 
One  of  these  visits  gave  him  the  opportunity  of 
adding  a  peculiarly  interesting  volume  to  his 
library.  In  October,  1680,  he  was  at  Newmarket 
for  some  days,  trying  to  induce  the  King  to 
consider  the  question  of  certain  long  outstanding 


Samuel  Pepys 


237 


arrears  of  pay  due  to  him.^     To  judge  from  the 
amount  still  owed  him  by  the  Crown  when  he 
died,  he  was  unsuccessful  in  this  attempt.     But 
if  he  could  not  get  money  from  Charles,  he  got 
in  leisurely  detail  the  story  of  the  King's  romantic 
escape  after  the  Battle  of  Worcester— the  story 
which  he  had  heard  in  his  youth,  and  had  been 
"  ready  to  weep  "  to  hear,  on  the  ship  that  had 
brought  the  exile  home.     This  time  he  took  it 
down  in  shorthand  from  the  King's  dictation. 
The  manuscript,  with  a  transcript  in  longhand, 
and  some  additions  from  other  sources,  was  suit- 
ably bound,  and  is  still  to  be  seen  on  the  very 
shelf  of  his  library  on  which  he  placed  it.* 

In  this  same  autumn  (1680),  Pepys'  father 
died  at  Brampton,  in  his  eightieth  year.  The 
house  and  property  at  Brampton  which  the  old 
man  had  inherited  from  his  brother  nearly  twenty 

1  Pepys  to  James  Houblon,  letter  dated  Newmarket,  October 
2,  1680. 

'  It  is  published,  in  the  same  volume  with  Grammont's 
Memoirs,  in  Bohn's  Standard  Library. 


I 


\  i 


H  f 


•  I 


238 


Samuel  Pepys 


years  before  he  bequeathed  to  Samuel,  the  rest 
of  his  possessions  being  divided  equally  among 
his  three  surviving  children,  Samuel,  John,  and 
Paulina  Jackson.  The  house  in  question  is  still 
standing  in  the  village  of  Brampton,  three  miles 
from  Huntingdon.  It  was  too  small  and  too 
remote  for  Pepys  to  care  to  retire  there  now,  and 
we  find  him  a  few  months  later  offering  to  let  it 
to  a  cousin.  It  seems,  however,  to  have  been 
occupied  by  the  Jackson  family  during  the  years 
that  followed. 

From  Brampton,  meanwhile,  on  November  14, 
1680,  Pepys  wrote  a  particularly  delightful  letter, 
part  of  which  must  be  quoted.  James  Houblon, 
one  of  the  large  and  honoured  family  of  that  name, 
had  been  a  very  good  friend  to  Pepys  during  his 
troubles  of  the  preceding  year.  Pepys  now  sent 
him  a  portrait  of  himself  as  a  mark  of  gratitude, 
explaining  that  this  seemed  the  kind  of  present 
that  would  best  serve  to  remind  his  benefactor 
of  his  good  deeds.  Otherwise,  he  declares, 
Houblon   will   certainly   forget   all   the   kindly 


I 


Samuel  Pepys 


_239 

offices  he  performed  for  his  friend  in  distress" 
"  Nay,  in  my  conscience,"  he  goes  on  with  affec- 
tionate vivacity,  « if  he  tnew  this  were  the  design 
of  my  present,  he  would  turn  his  head  a'  one 
side  every  time  he  comes  in  sight  on't. 

«  And  even,  lest  he  should  do  so,  I  have  been 
fain  to  think  of  an  assistant  device ;  and  that  is, 
to  send  a  smaU  bribe  to  every  one  of  his  family^ 
to  get  them,  in  such  a  case,  to  be  putting  in  some 
word  or  other  as  he  passes  by,  to  make  him  look 
upon  it ;    as  thus  :-<  Was  Mr.  Pepys  in  these 
clothes,   father,   when   you  used  to  go  to  the 
Tower  to  him  ? '    Or  thus :-« Lord,  cousin,  how 
hath  this  business  of  Scott  altered  my  poor  cousin 
Pepys  since  this  was  done  ! '    Or  thus :— '  What 
would  I  give  for  a  plot,  Jemmy,  to  get  you  laid 
by  the  heels,  that  I  might  see  what  tLs  Mr.  Pepys 
would  do  for  you.'    With  these  helps  I  don't 
doubt  but  it  wiU  do ;  at  least,  so  far  as  to  stick 
an  impression  upon  the  young  ones  of  what,  in 
their  father's   right,  (if  he  won't,)   they  may 
challenge  from  me  as  they  shaU  grow  big  enough 


r 


I'i 


l\ 


!) 


fH,* 


'  **' 


240 


Samuel  Pepys 


to  make  work  for  me,  and  find  me  become  not 
too  little  to  do  them  any." 

In  the  following  year,  1 68 1,  there  was  a  chance 
that  Pepys  might  find  a  highly  congenial  retreat 
at  Cambridge,  where  he  would  have  leisure  to 
devote  himself  to  his  long-planned  history  of  the 
navy.     A  friend  of  his,  by  name  Maryon,  a  Fellow 
of  Clare  Hall,  wrote  to  say  that  Sir  Thomas  Page, 
Provost  of  King's,  was  just  dead,  and  to  suggest 
that  Pepys  might  like  to  succeed  him ;  the  Pro- 
vostship  was  worth  ^£700  a  year,  and  he  felt  sure 
that  Pepys*  candidature  would  be  acceptable  to 
the  college  and  to  the  whole  university.    The 
proposal  was  a  tempting  one ;    Pepys  modestly 
declared  that  his  "  stock  of  academic  knowledge  " 
was  not  such  as  a  Provost  of   King's  ought  to 
possess,  but  he  was  evidently  pleased  with  the 
idea.    To  another  acquaintance.  Colonel  Legge 
(afterwards  Lord  Dartmouth)   with  whom  he 
corresponded  on  the  matter,  he  wrote  that  if  he 
were  chosen  for  the  post  he  should  hand  over 
the  whole  of  the  first  year's  emoluments  for  the 


Samuel  Pepys 


241 


benefit  of  the  College,  and  not  less  than  half  of 
every  succeeding  year's.  Whatever  he  might 
say,  Pepys,  with  his  "  liberal  genius,"  would  have 
made  an  admirable  head  of  a  college.  But  the 
idea  came  to  nothing,  we  do  not  learn  why; 
and  the  appointment  went  to  Dr.John  Coplestone. 

In  1 68 1,  we  find  Pepys  taking  the  precaution 
of  obtaining  from  Daniel  Milles,  Rector  of  St. 
Olave's,  Hart  Street,  a  certificate  of  his  regular 
attendance  at  Holy  Communion  from  the  begin- 
ning of  his  connexion  with  the  Navy  Office. 
St.  Olave's  was  officially  attended  by  the  mem- 
bers of  the  Navy  Board  and  Admiralty,  so  that 
Pepys  had  continued  to  go  there  even  after  his 
removal  from  Seething  Lane.  It  does  not  appear 
that  he  required  this  certificate  for  any  immediate 
purpose,  but,  doubtless,  he  felt  it  would  be  a 
useful  document  to  have  by  him  in  case  the  old 
attacks  should  at  any  time  be  renewed. 

In  the  spring  of  1682,  the  Duke  of  York  went 

to  Scotland  on  public  business,  and  Pepys  was 

among  those  who  accompanied  him.    The  jour- 

16 


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242 


Samuel  Pepys 


Samuel  Pepys 


243 


ney  was  made  by  sea.  The  Duke  invited  Pepys 
to  sail  with  him  on  board  the  Gloucester^  but  he 
preferred  to  go  in  one  of  the  attendant  yachts, 
the  Catherine^  where  he  had  roomier  accom- 
modation. His  choice  was  fortunate,  for  the 
Gloucester  was  wrecked,  through  the  negligence 
of  the  pilot,  on  a  sand-bank  near  the  mouth  of 
the  Humber,  and  many  of  the  passengers  were 
drowned.  The  Catherine  happened,  fortunately, 
to  be  near  at  hand  at  the  moment,  and  the  Duke, 
with  two  companions  (one  of  them  the  future 
Duke  of  Marlborough),  was  promptly  and  safely 
transferred  thither  by  boat.  At  Edinburgh, 
Pepys  was  allowed  to  be  present  at  two  Councils, 
though  he  was  not  there  in  an  official  capacity, 
after  which  he  made  a  tour  in  the  neighbourhood, 
visiting  Stirling,  Linlithgow,  Hamilton,  and 
Glasgow.  He  was  impressed  with  the  beauty 
and  prosperity  of  Glasgow — for  Scotland  ;  but 
the  Scotch  displeased  him  in  general,  for  blunt 
reasons  which  he  gives  in  a  letter  to  Hewer.* 

1  Pepys  to  W.  Hewer,  May  19,  1682. 


He  returned  home  by  land,  visiting  Durham  on 
the  way,  where  the  Bishop,  he  says,  "  seems  to 
live  more  like  a  prince  of  this,  than  a  preacher  of 
the  other  world."  1 

Pepys'  next  mission  was  of  more  importance. 
It  will  be  remembered^that  in  the  time  of  the 
Diary  he  had  been  one  of  the  Commissioners  for 
the  affairs  of  Tangier  ;  and  in  1683  he  was  at  last 
to  see  the  place  which  had  for  so  long  been  a  source 
to  him  both  of  trouble  and  of  profit.     Tangier, 
like  Bombay,  had  passed,  as  part  of  the  dowry  of 
Catherine  of  Braganza,  from  Portuguese  to  Eng- 
lish hands.     Its  value  was  that  it  provided  a  key 
to  the  Mediterranean,  but  it  did  not  prove  the 
secure   harbour   for   English   shipping   that   was 
expected.     Money  was  poured  out  for  the  con- 
struction of  a  large  breakwater,  but  the  work  was 
from  the  first  involved  in  every  kind  of  misman- 
agement   and    abuse.     The    Commissioners    at 
home  had  no  practical  knowledge  of  the  place, 
and  the  successive  governors  on  the  spot  had 

1  Pepys  to  W.  Hewer,  May  26,  1682. 


% 


244 


Samuel  Pepys 


usually  no  care  but  to  get  what  they  could  out 
of  it  for  themselves.     The  breakwater  was  still 
incomplete  when,  in  1680,  Tangier  was  attacked 
by  the  Moors.     It  began  to  be  evident  that  the 
place  was  costing  more  than  it  was  worth,  and, 
in  1683,  it  was  resolved  to  abandon  it.     Lord 
Dartmouth  was  accordingly  sent  in  August  of 
that  year  with  secret  orders  to  blow  up  the  harbour 
works,  and  bring  home  the  garrison,  and  Pepys 
was  directed  to  accompany  him.     During  this 
expedition,  the  object  of  which  was  not  revealed 
to  him  till  they  were  at  sea,  Pepys  once  more 
kept  a  diary  in  shorthand.^      This  diary,  though 
valuable   for  the   information  it  gives,   is  very 
different  from  its  great  predecessor.     It  is  a  mere 
record  of  facts,  presumably  kept  for  future  refer- 
ence, and  Pepys*  personal  peculiarities,  which  can- 
not be  supposed  to  have  altogether  disappeared, 
are  hardly  allowed  to  emerge  at  all.     When  they 
arrived  at  Tangier,  Pepys  was  at  once  struck 

1  The  original  is  among  the  Rawlinson  MSS.  in  the  Bodleian 
Library.  It  was  deciphered  and  published  by  the  Rev.  John 
Smith  in  1841  (see  Preface). 


Samuel  Pepys 


245 


with    the    obvious    uselessness    of    the    place. 
"  Lord  !  "  he  exclaims,  with  a  touch  of  the  old 
spirit,  "  how  could  anybody  ever  think  a  place 
fit  to  be  kept  at  this  charge,  that,  overlooked  by 
so  many  hUIs,  can  never  be  secured  against  an 
enemy."    All  he  saw  only  confirmed  him  in  this 
opinion.     The  town  was  at  this  time  under  the 
charge  of  the  notorious  Colonel  Kirke,  and  the 
whole  place  was  in  a  state  of  scandalous  disorder. 
Pepys  was  constantly  finding  fresh  instances  of 
the  way  in  which  it  had  been  systematicaUy 
exploited  by  its  governors  for  their  private  profit. 
The  unfinished  mole  was  partiaHy  destroyed  by 
Lord  Dartmouth,  the  remains  of  it  being  dis- 
cernible to  this  day.     Pepys  crossed  the  straits 
for  a  short  visit  to  Cadiz  and  Seville,  and  on  his 
return  to  Tangier  Dartmouth  was  ready  to  depart. 
They  set  sail  on  March  5, 1684,  and  the  Emperor  of 
Morocco  praised  God  that  the  place  had  reverted 
again  to  those  to  whom  it  had  belonged.    Pepys 
returned  home  with  a  much  enlarged  experience 
of  frauds  and  abuses,  and  some  trenchant  opinion 


t    ll 


u 


n 


i 


246 


Samuel  Pepys 


Samuel  Pepys 


247 


on  the  undesirability  of  placing  amateur  "  gentle- 
men commanders "  over  experienced  seamen— 
« tarpaulins,"  as  they  were  called— in  the  navy. 
Shortly  after  his  return  Pepys  was  once  more 
appointed  Secretary  of  the  Admiralty,  Charles 
himself  taking  up  the  office  of  Lord  High  Admiral. 
Pepys'  patent  is  dated  June  10,  1684 ;  his  salary 
was  fixed  at  ^£500  a  year. 

•     In  the  same  year  he  was  elected  President  of 
the  Royal  Society,  of  which  he  had  been  a  FeHow 
since  1665.     His  own  Diary,  as  well  as  the  records 
of  the  Society,  show  that  he  had  always  been 
a  keen  attendant  at  its  meetings,  and  that  he  had 
often  placed  at  its  service  his  stock  of  curious 
knowledge.    He   held   the   presidency   for   two 
years,  and  began  the  practice,  which  he  continued 
in  after  years  as  long  as  his  health  allowed  it,  of 
entertaining  the  FeUows  on  Saturday  evenings 
at  his  house  in  York  Buildings.     Pepys  was  in 
no  sense  a  scientist,  but  at  a  time  when  science 
was  chiefly  occupied  in  preparing  itself,  with  the 
universal  inquisitiveness  of  an  intelligent  child, 


for  its  later  systematization,  a  man  of  his  quick 
and  perpetual  interest,  made  exactly  the  kind  of 
president  that  was  needed.  Evelyn  was  regu- 
larly present  at  the  Saturday  evenings,  at  which 
Isaac  Newton,  a  whale  among  a  great  many 
irresponsible  fishes,  was  also  to  be  seen. 

In  February,  1685,  Charles  died  with  his  famous 
jest  upon  his  lips,  the  cleverest  man,  in  the  strict 
sense  of  the  word,  who  has  ever  been  King  of 
England.  Pepys  remained  in  office  during  the 
whole  of  James'  short  reign,  the  new  King  him- 
self resuming  his  old  post  of  Lord  High  Admiral. 
One  of  his  first  acts  was  the  appointment  of  a 
special  commission  to  deal  with  the  disorder  left 
by  the  inexperienced  Admiralty  Commissioners 
who  had  held  office  from  1679  ^o  ^684.  At 
James'  coronation  Pepys  took  part  in  the  state 
procession  as  one  of  the  Barons  of  the  Cinque 
Ports.  In  the  same  year  he  was,  for  the  second 
time.  Master  of  the  Trinity  House,  which  had 
3  ust  been  re-constituted  by  a  new  charter.  Evelyn 
describes  how  the  Brethren  dined  in  state  on  this 


'it 


V 

I 


248 


Samuel  Pepys 


Samuel  Pepys 


249 


occasion,  with  many  distinguished  guests,  above 
eighty  people  sitting  down  to  table. ^ 

It  is  not  altogether  easy  to  realize  that  Pepys 
was  now  a  great  man.  We  know  him  so  well  as 
the  ingenuous  young  official  of  the  Diary  that  it 
is  difficult  to  think  of  him  as  an  elderly  and  influ- 
ential servant  of  the  Crown.  Whether,  beneath 
his  impressive  exterior,  he  was  still  the  same 
Pepys,  still  the  same  epicure  of  life  and  experience, 
there  is  little  enough  to  show  ;  we  have  seen  that 
his  letters  keep  that  secret.  Anyhow,  to  the 
world  at  large  he  was  now  a  personage  to  be 
approached  with  deference,  to  be  courted  with 
complimentary  presents,  to  be  sued  for  place 
and  preferment.  The  wife  of  the  Governor  of 
Bombay  sends  him  a  velvet  carpet,  our  old  friend 
Philip  Carteret,  the  hero  of  the  idyll  which  Pepys 
had  so  skilfully  directed,  sends  partridges  and  a 
barrel  of  carp  from  Jersey,  "  the  onely  things 
this  poor  island  can  affoard."  His  correspondence 
contains  many  letters  from  needy  people,  with 

^  Evelyn's  Diary,  July  20,  1685. 


favours  of  various  kinds  to  ask.  Among  them 
is  the  ever-luckless  Samuel  Morland,  who  had 
been  tutor  at  Magdalene  in  Pepys'  day  and  who 
in  his  old  age  had  been  involved  in  difficulties 
by  his  wife,  reputed  an  heiress,  but  in  the  event 
shown  to  be  a  coachman's  daughter  of  neither 
fortune  nor  character.  With  James  on  the 
throne,  Pepys  was  all-powerful;  and  in  the 
general  election  of  1685,  so  far  from  having  to 
court  a  constituency,  he  was  spontaneously  re- 
turned both  by  Harwich  and  by  Sandwich.  He 
chose  to  sit,  as  before,  for  Harwich.  This  Parlia- 
ment was  dissolved  in  July,  1687,  and  was  the 
last  in  which  Pepys  found  a  place.  His  public 
life,  like  James',  was  approaching  its  end. 

The  events  that  led  up  to  the  Revolution  are 
very  meagrely  represented  in  Pepys'  correspond- 
ence as  we  have  it.  All  we  possess  in  this  con- 
nexion are  some  of  the  letters  which  passed,  in 
that  critical  autumn  of  1688,  between  him  and 
Lord  Dartmouth,  who  was  in  command  of  the 
fleet.     Pepys  was  fully  aware  of  the  gravity  of  the 


I 


2SO 


Samuel  Pepys 


situation,  though  even  towards  the  end  of  Novem- 
ber he  could  still  "  firmly  hope  .  .  .  that  God 
Almighty  has  it  in  his  gracious  purpose  to  support 
the  King  and  his  government."  ^  On  December 
10,  James  ended  his  reign  by  the  dramatic  flight 
which  was  in  reality  so  carefully  ensured  him  by 
his  enemies.  Pepys  had  lost  his  best  and  one  of 
his  oldest  friends.  James  has,  on  the  whole, 
suffered  considerable  injustice  in  our  history 
books — ^an  injustice  which  Pepys'  Diary  and  cor- 
respondence do  much  to  right.  Just  before  the 
end  the  King  had  been  sitting  to  Kneller  for  a 
portrait  intended  for  Pepys ;  but  Pepys  himself, 
in  his  Diary  and  his  correspondence,  had  drawn 
a  better  portrait  of  him  than  he  was  likely  to 
get  from  Kneller.  His  own  career  was  at  an 
end — ^that  he  must  have  seen  clearly — ^but  it  was 
not  only  for  himself,  it  was  also  for  his  excellent 
master,  that  he  was  troubled.  At  this  agitated 
moment  two  other  old  friends  sent  him  affection- 

^  Pepys  to  the  Mayor  and  Corporation  of  Harwich,  Novem- 
ber 27,  i688. 


•     '■  ".At/,   LuHUi^n. 


James  II. 

Fru,„  the  painting  by  John  Riley  (National 


1 

4 


ii 


Portrait  Gallery). 


Samuel  Pepys 


251 


ate  letters  ^  of  sympathy.  On  December  12, 
Evelyn  writes  "  on  purpose  to  learne  how  it  is 
with  you,  and  to  know  if  in  any  sort  I  may  serve 
you  in  this  prodigious  Revolution  " ;  and  a  note 
from  William  Hewer,  dated  December  19,  is 
pathetically  docketed  in  Pepys'  hand,  "  A  letter 
of  great  tendernesse,  at  a  time  of  difficulty." 

It  was,  of  course,  impossible  that  one  who 
had  been  so  intimately  associated  with  James  II 
should  find  a  place  in  the  new  order,  even  if  he 
had  desired  it.  When  the  election  for  the  new 
Convention  Parliament  took  place  early  in  1689, 
the  Corporation  of  Harwich  were  determined  to 
be  represented  by  some  one  more  likely  to  be 
acceptable  to  those  in  authority.  The  cry  of 
"  No  Tower  men,  no  men  out  of  the  Tower !  " 
was  raised  against  Pepys,  and  a  large  majority 
declared  against  him.  On  March  9,  he  was 
ordered  by  the  Commissioners  of  the  Admiralty 
to  hand  over  his  papers  to  Phineas  Bowles,  who 
became  Secretary  in  his  place.  Still,  he  did  not 
give  up  all  hope  of  returning  to  Parliament. 


V 
\ 

P 


I 


r  H 


/' 


\\ 


li 


i  f\ 


i 


252 


Samuel  Pepys 


On  February  8,  1690,  he  writes  to  Sir  Edward 
Seymour,  a  former  Speaker,  to  ask  whether  he 
could  "  spare  an  interest  anywhere "  to  help 
him  to  a  seat.  But  the  old  charges  against  him 
were  easily  revived.  Evelyn  mentions  in  his 
Diary  that  on  June  10,  1690,  Pepys  read  him  a 
"  Remonstrance "  which  he  had  drawn  up  to 
clear  himself  and  Sir  Anthony  Deane  against 
accusations  made  in  connexion  with  the  building 
of  certain  ships.  This  Remonstrance  may  have 
been  the  work  which  Pepys  issued  at  this  time, 
his  only  publication  during  his  life,i  under  the 
title  of  Memoires  relating  to  the  State  of  the  Royal 
Navy  of  England  for  ten  years,  determined  December ^ 
1688.  This  little  book  ^  was  the  one  fragment 
of  Pepys'  projected  history  of  the  navy  which 
he  finally  put  into  shape,  and  it  was  called  forth 
by  the  needs  of  the  moment.     He  undertook  to 

1  7he  Portugal  History,  or  a  Relation  of  the  Troubles  that 
Happened  in  the  Court  of  Portugal  in  the  years  1667  and  1668, 
by  S.  P.  esq.  (1677),  has  been  attributed  to  him,  without  reason. 

*  It  has  lately  been  reprinted,  with  an  introduction  by  Dr. 
J.  R.  Tanner  (Clarendon  Press,  1906). 


Samuel  Pepys 


(  i 


253 


expose  in  it  the  mismanagement  of  the  navy 
between  1679  ^^^  1684,  and  to  vindicate  the 
action  of  James'  Special  Commission  of  1686, 
with  particular  reference  to  the  part  played  by 
himself,  Deane,  and  Hewer.  His  indictment 
and  defence  are  alike  temperately  expressed,  and 
he  winds  up  with  an  eloquent  summary  of  the 
manner  and  spirit  in  which  alone  a  state  of  efficiency 
can  be  maintained.  The  book  in  its  original 
form  is  scarce  ;  a  copy  on  large  paper,  with  manu- 
script corrections  in  the  author's  hand,  is  preserved 
in  the  Pepysian  Library.  Whatever  effect  its 
publication  may  have  had,  it  was  not  enough  to 
save  him  from  being  committed  to  the  Gate-house 
at  Westminster,  on  June  25,  1690,  under  the 
now  familiar  imputation  of  betraying  naval  secrets 
to  the  French.  He  was  allowed  bail  in  the 
following  month  on  account  of  ill-health,  four 
friends  (one  of  them  the  good  James  Houblon) 
standing  surety  for  him.  As  usual,  there  was 
no  kind  of  evidence  against  him,  and  the  charge 
was  dropped.     On  October  15,  1690,  he  wrote 


^^^i 


^1 


V 


^( 


\ 


254 


Samuel  Pepys 


to  the  friends  who  had  come  to  his  rescue,  invit- 
ing them  to  "  a  piece  of  mutton  "  to  celebrate 
the  occasion  of  his  being  "  once  again  a  free  man 
in  every  respect."  We  hear  no  more  of  any 
desire  to  return  to  public  life. 

Thus,  at  the  age  of  fifty-seven,  Pepys  at  last 
retired  in  good  earnest.  His  health  was  still 
sound  enough  to  enable  him  to  enjoy  his  leisure 
and  his  friends'  society  to  the  full.  Moreover, 
he  had,  besides  his  health,  the  right  temperament 
for  relaxation.  Devoted  as  he  had  been  to  his 
work,  it  had  never  absorbed  him  entirely,  and 
when  it  was  necessary  to  lay  it  aside,  he  had  plenty 
of  other  interests  to  fill  the  gap.  He  settled 
down — ^with  a  revival,  we  may  perhaps  imagine, 
of  his  old  dramatic  zest  for  a  part  that  appealed 
to  him — into  a  life  of  cultured  and  distinguished 
freedom.  He  conducted  a  frequent  correspond- 
ence with  Evelyn,  in  which  philosophical  maxims, 
stray  scraps  of  literary  and  scientific  lore,  moraliza- 
tions  on  old  age,  friendship,  and  the  like,  blend 
together  in  a  pleasant  Ciceronian  suavity.    The 


Samuel  Pepys 


255 


two  friends  met  regularly,    and    Pepys    took   a 
fatherly  interest  in  Evelyn's    grandson,  who  as 
an  Oxford  undergraduate  sent  him  a  Latin  letter, 
with  a  copy  of  elegiacs.     He  was  also  in  constant 
communication  with  the  principal  men  of  science 
and  letters.     We  find  him  writing  to  Sir  Isaac 
Newton  to  ask  for  an  exposition  of  the  mathe- 
matical law  of  hazards,  which  Newton  gives  in 
much  learned  detail.     At  another  time  he  collects, 
in   a   whole   series   of   letters,    the   experiences 
of  various  friends  on  the  subject  of  the  Scotch 
"  second  sight."    Sir  Godfrey  Kneller,  Dr.  (after- 
wards Sir  Hans)  Sloane,  Tanner  and  Wanley,  the 
celebrated  antiquarians,  are  also  among  his  cor- 
respondents.    Dryden  addresses  him  as  "  Padron 
mio,"  and  sends  him  his  adaptation  of  Chaucer's 
Good  Parson,  which  he  had  made  at  Pepys' request. 
Pepys,  in  reply,  begs  him  to  come  and  share  "  a 
cold  chicken  and  a  salad  "  any  day  at  noon.     His 
patronage  of  literature   is,  moreover,  illustrated 
by  the  various  books  dedicated  to  him  in  these 
and   earlier  years.     Paul    Lorrain,   a   translator 


) 


<  II 


! 


i 


1 


Samuel  Pepys 


256 

both  of    French  into  English    and  of  English 
into   French,  dedicated   two  of  his  publications 
to  him.    Thomas  Phelps'    T:rue  Account  of  his 
Captivity  at  Machaness  in  Barhary  (1685),  Wil- 
loughby's  Historia  Piscium  (1685-6),  Dr.  Richard 
Cumberland's  Essay  on  Jewish  weights  and  meas- 
ures (1686),  and,  lastly,  the  South  Sea  Voyages 
and  Discoveries  of  Sir  John  Narborough  (1694), 
are  all  headed  with   complimentary  dedications 
to  Pepys.     In  his  various  public   capacities,  his 
patronage  had,  of  course,  been  valuable,  and  even 
when  he  no  longer  commanded  official  influence, 
he  still  remained  an  admirable  Maecenas,  whose 
opinion  had  weight  in  the  literary  world. 

But  the  chief  interest  of  his  later  years  was, 
without  doubt,  his  famous  library.  It  is  impos- 
sible to  say  when  it  first  occurred  to  him  that 
he  would  bequeath  his  collection  in  a  way  that 
should  preclude  all  chance  of  its  dispersal  after 
his  death.  There  is  no  hint  of  any  such  idea  in 
the  Diary,  though  it  would  have  been  like  him, 
with  his  intense  love  of  his  own  possessions,  to 


Sa^miel  Pepys 


^Sl 


have  felt  in  quite  early  days  the  desire  to  provide 
for  their  permanent  preservation.     It  is  probable, 
at  any  rate,  that  long  before  his  death  he  decided 
he  would  not  collect    for  himself  alone.     It  is 
difficult  to  explain  why  it  is  that  his  library,  in 
spite  of  its  intensely   personal  stamp,  gives  the 
impression  that  its  founder  was  guided  in  forming 
it  by  further  considerations  than  his  own  imme- 
diate  preferences.     Its   wide   range   of    subjects 
might  seem  dictated  by  the  mere  wish  to  make  it 
representative  and  complete  in  itself,  if  it  were 
not    for    the    fact    that    Pepys'    own    interests 
undoubtedly  ranged    just  as  widely.     Yet  it  is 
impossible  to  feel,  as  one  becomes  familiar  with 
the  aspect  of  the   shelves,  with  the  elaborately 
methodical  arrangement,  and  the  countless  signs 
of  minute  forethought  and  exactitude,  that  the 
library  grew,  so  to  speak,  from  within.     With  all 
its  intrinsic  interest  it  seems  designed  to  be  looked 
at  rather  than  to  be  used.     It  is  these  very  details, 
no  doubt,  which  most  account  for   its  personal 
savour,  such  excess  of  precision  being  obviously 

17 


ill 


ill 


\        t| 


n 


^ 


Samuel  Pepys 


258 

the  mark  of  an  individual  taste ;  but  they  also, 
by  the  same  token,  give  the  collection  its  air  of 
being  dressed  up  for  exhibition.     We  return  to 
the  inference,  suggested  by  the  Diary,  that  Pepys 
did  not  solely  or  even  chiefly  care  for  books  for 
their  own  sake.    He  enjoyed  the  fact  of  possessing 
them,  the  gratification,  of  seeing  them  uniformly 
bound  and  exactly  fitted  into  the   shelves,  the 
sense  that  the  various  collections  and  series  were 
complete  and  neatly  indexed  with  plenty  of  ruled 
red  lines-all  this  before  he  enjoyed  the  act  of 
using  them.     It  would  follow  from  this  apprecia- 
tion  of   his   library   as   a   catalogued,    ticketed 
"  piece,"  displayed  to  the  best  advantage  in  glazed 
cupboards   that   he   would   particularly     shrink 
from  the  idea  of  its  being  disarranged  and  broken 
up  after  his  death.    The  only  certain  safeguard 
would  be  to  leave  it,  with  careful  restrictions  as 
to  its  use,  to  some  public  institution.     A  uni- 
versity would  obviously  be  the  most  fitting  place 
for  it,  and  of  universities  his  natural  incUnation 
would  be  for  Cambridge.    He  might  present  it 


I"! 


Samuel  Pepys 


259 


to  the  University  Library,  but  a  college  was  more 
to  his  mind.     If  it  came  to  a  choice  of  colleges, 
Trinity  was  the  most  important,  but   then   his 
own  private  connexion  was  with  Magdalene.     On 
the  whole,  it  seemed  indicated  by  a  process  of 
elimination  that  Magdalene  was  the  supremely 
appropriate  resting-place  for  his  library.     Pepys, 
in  his  will,  placed  before  his  nephew  and  heir, 
John  Jackson,  this  actual  series  of  alternatives, 
indicating  in  each  case  his  own  preference,  though 
without   binding   him   necessarily   to   follow  it. 
Jackson,  however,  was  himself  to  keep  it  for  his 
lifetime,  to  make  a  few  specified  additions,  and  to 
see  that  the  catalogue  was  made  finally  complete. 
Wherever  the  library  eventually  went,  it  was  to 
be  placed  in  a  separate  room  of  its  own,  to  be 
called   "Bibliotheca   Pepysiana,"   and  no   other 
books  were  to  be  added  to  it.     If  the  choice  fell 
on  Magdalene,  it  was  to  be  housed  in  the  new 
building  then  in  course  of  construction.     This 
building,  which  was  to  form  a  second  court  at 
the  back  of  the  old  college,  had  been  planned 


Ill 


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26o 


k  ' 


Samuel  Pepys 


and  designed  many  years  earlier,  but  its  erection 
had    been    delayed.     It    was    begun    in    1677. 
Pepys  not  only  contributed  ^60  towards  the  cost, 
but  also  lent  the  college  a  sum  of  money  for  the 
same    purpose.     Here    it  was    that,  twenty-one 
years  after  Pepys'  death,  his  library  was  finally 
deposited  beyond  all  risk  of  future  disturbance. 
Pepys  accordingly  set  to  work  to  bring  his  col- 
lection into  the  neatest  possible  shape    for    its 
assured  perpetuity.     He  managed  that  it  should 
exactly  fill  twelve  handsome  presses  of  unpolished 
red    oak.     In    these     presses     the    books    were 
arranged   with   extreme   neatness,    most   of   the 
shelves  containing  a  double  rank  of  volumes,  folios 
at  the  back,  small  octavos  and  duodecimos  in 
front.     They  still  stand  in  their  places  exactly  as 
Pepys    left    them.     An    arrangement    according 
to  subject  would  have  resulted  in  a  displeasingly 
irregular  appearance,  so  they  are  ranked    solely 
by   their    stature;    in    one    case,    where    certain 
members  of  a  series  happened  to  be  shorter  than 
the  rest,  they  are  actually  propped  upon  small 


Safnuel  Pepys 


261 


wooden  supports,  gilded  to  imitate  the  backs  of 
the  volumes,  in  order  to  bring  them  up  to  the 
exact  level.     The  volumes  are  numbered  conse- 
cutively on  the  fly-leaves,  from  i  to  3,000,  most 
of  them  showing,  by  various  erased  figures,  that 
they  had   often   been  re-arranged   before  being 
established  in  their  final  positions.    Nearly  all  are 
bound  in  dark  brown  calf,  the  backs  tooled  and 
gilded  and  the  sides  stamped  with  Pepys'  arms. 
Each  volume  contains  two  bookplates.    The  first, 
pasted  on  the  back   of  the  title-page,  bears  an 
engraving  of    Pepys'  portrait  by    Kneller,  with 
the  inscription  ''  Sam.  Pepys.  Car.  et.  Jac.  Angl. 
Regib.     A  Secretis  Admiraliae,"  and  the  motto 
(from  Cicero's  ^omnium  Sciponis)  "  Mens  cujusque 
is  est  quisque."     The  second,  which  is  inserted 
on  the  last  page  of  each  volume,  has  the  initials 
"  S.  P.,"  intertwined  with  two  anchors  and  cables, 
and  a  ribbon  bearing  the  same  Ciceronian  motto. 
Of   the   three   thousand   volumes   about   two 
hundred  and  fifty  are  manuscripts.     A  few  of 
these  latter  are  mediaeval  books  on  vellum ;  among 


i  ..1 


f 


I 


1 1 


|i 


262 


Samuel  Pepys 


them  are  a  Bible  or  two,  a  curious  fifteenth-century 
Kalendar,  and  an  illuminated  copy  of  the  Apoca- 
lypse with  a  French  metrical  commentary.     There 
is  also  a  collection  of  sermons  bearing  the  name  of 
Wyclif,  and  some  volumes  of  old  poetry.     But 
Pepys  was  not  greatly  interested  in  the  Middle 
Ages,  and  most  of  his  manuscripts  belong  to  his 
own  day.     He  collected  by  various  means,  not 
all  of  which  would  perhaps  have  borne  investiga- 
tion, over  a  hundred  volumes  of  naval  papers. 
Many  of  these  represent  material  which  he  had 
had  copied  from  the  originals  with  a  view  to  his 
history  of  the  navy  ;    but  Pepys'  conscience  was 
not  very  strict  in  the  matter  of  annexing  borrowed 
books,  and  an  important  collection  of  State  papers 
of  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries,  lent 
him  by  Evelyn,  found  a  permanent  place  in  his 
library,  in  spite  of  requests  from  their  owner  for 
their  return.     It  is  impossible  to  say  how  Pepys 
became  possessed  of  one  of  the  most  curious  of 
his    books — the    original   list    of    the    provisions 
carried  by  the  Spanish  Armada  of  1588,  bound 


Samuel  Pepys 


263 


in  vellum .  boards  and  pierced  with  a  hole  by 
which  to  hang  it  up.  Among  the  collection  of 
musical  manuscripts  is  a  relic  of  his  suspected 
Italian  assistant — "  Songs  and  other  Compositions, 
Light,  Grave,  and  Sacred,  for  a  single  voice 
adjusted  to  the  particular  compass  of  mine ; 
with  a  thorough  base  on  y«  ghitare,  by  Cesare 
Morelli."  One  of  the  best  known  curiosities  of  the 
library  is  a  copy  of  Henry  VIII's  letters  to  Anne 
Boleyn,  from  the  originals  in  the  Vatican ;  an- 
other is  a  little  pocket-book  with  an  almanac  and 
a  chart  of  the  French  and  Spanish  coast,  used  by 
Sir  Francis  Drake,  and  bearing  his  autograph. 

Pepys  collected  some  fine  early-printed  books, 
among  which  Caxton,  Wynkyn  de  Worde  and 
Pynson  are  well  represented.  It  is  notable  that 
though  he  was  by  no  means  an  antiquarian  himself, 
he  knew  how  to  make  good  use  of  the  judgment 
of  his  antiquarian  friends.  He  did  not  amass 
books  unintelligently,  even  when  they  were  of  a 
kind  of  which  he  had  no  special  knowledge.  He 
had  a  clear  idea  of  the  scope  he  wished  for  hi* 


,h 


1 


T 


264 


Samuel  Pepys 


library,  and  if  certain  sections  of  it  lay  beyond 
his  own  experience,  he  understood  where  to  go 
for  help.  When  it  was  a  question  of  matters  fami- 
liar to  him,  connected  with  his  own  time  and 
tastes,  his  eye  for  what  would  be  of  permanent 
interest  was  remarkably  just,  with  the  result  that 
his  library  is  very  rich  in  pamphlets  and  "  news- 
letters "  of  great  documentary  value.  He  seems 
to  have  clearly  foreseen  the  interest  to  posterity 
of  the  ephemeral  and  the  frivolous.  It  is  not 
as  though  he  collected  at  random  whatever 
chanced  to  amuse  him.  He  had  a  strict  sense 
of  the  dignity  of  his  book-shelves ;  notes  and 
erasures  in  his  manuscript  catalogue  show  that 
nothing  was  admitted  without  careful  considera- 
tion of  its  claims.  Later  and  fuller  editions  were 
substituted  for  earlier,  not  always  to  the  satis- 
faction of  the  modern  student, — and  here,  indeed, 
Pepys'  foresight  was  at  fault.  But  his  volumes 
of  Penny  GodlinesseSy  Penny  Merriments,  Old 
Novels,  Vulgar ia,  and  the  like,  just  the  kind  of 
things,  one  might  suppose,  that  he  would  have 


Samuel  Pepys 


265 


rejected  as.  unworthy,  were  evidently  preserved 
as  being  representative  of  their  day.  So,  too, 
with  his  famous  collection  of  broadside  ballads, 
considerably  the  largest  in  existence.  These  are 
bound  up  in  five  folio  volumes,  the  title-page  of 
the  first  bearing  the  following  note  in  Pepys' 
writing  :  "  Begun  by  Mr.  Selden  :  Improved 
by  Y*  addition  of  many  Pieces  elder  thereto  in 
Time,  and  the  whole  continued  down  to  the  year 
1700,  when  the  Form  till  then  peculiar  thereto, 
viz.,  of  the  Black  Letter,  with  Picturs,  seems  (for 
cheapness  sake)  wholly  laid  aside,  for  that  of 
the  White  Letter,  without  Pictures."  The 
ballads,  some  eighteen  hundred  in  number,  are 
classified  under  different  headings,  "  Devotion 
and  Morality,"  "  Love,  pleasant,"  "  Love,  unfor- 
tunate," "  Humorous  frolics  and  mirth,"  and  so 
forth.  They  form  a  picture  of  life,  of  popular 
amusements  and  misfortunes,  as  well  as  of  current 
street-talk  on  public  events,  which  has  inexhaust- 
ible value  for  political  or  social  history.  Litera- 
ture, strictly  so  called,  had  no  very  prominent 


I  ii 


i. 


f 


L^ 


266 


Sj. 


I 


Samuel  Pepys 


place  in  Pepys'  scheme.  He  included  authors  of 
acknowledged  eminence,  ancient  as  well  as  modern, 
but  he  did  not  go  much  beyond  the  best  known 
names.  Plays,  indeed,  he  collected  in  large  num- 
bers, as  also  books  of  travel  and  science,  French, 
Italian  and  Spanish,  besides  English.  Topo- 
graphical works  are  well  represented,  especially 
those  dealing  with  Italy,  a  country  in  which  he 
took  a  deep  interest  all  his  life,  though  he  never 
saw  it. 

In  addition  to  the  twelve  presses,  the  library 
also  contains  a  large  writing-table  belonging 
to  Pepys,  fitted  with  special  shelves  at  either  end 
for  his  collection  of  scrap-books.  In  these  are 
arranged,  with  annotations  in  his  own  hand,  and 
a  free  use  of  ornamental  red  ink,  a  splendid  series 
of  engravings— portraits,  maps,  views  of  London, 
street-scenes  and  processions.  Biblical  and  alle- 
gorical pictures.  Three  volumes  are  devoted  to 
a  curious  collection  of  engraved  specimens  of 
'  caligraphy,  by  different  English  and  foreign 
writing-masters.     Prefixed  to  these,  as  examples 


Samuel  Pepys 


267 


of  handwriting,  are  some  fragments  of  fine 
mediaeval  manuscripts,  with  explanatory  com- 
ments contributed  by  Dr.  Wanley,  the  best 
authority  of  his  time  on  such  matters. 

Two  of  these  fragments  bear  a  note  to  the 
effect  that  they  were  presented  to  Pepys  by  his 
honoured  friends,  the  Dean  and  Chapter  of 
Durham ;  they  were  neatly  cut  from  the  pages  of 
two  books  still  to  be  seen  in  the  Chapter  Library 
at  Durham — a  remarkable  instance  of  the  kind 
of  use  considered  appropriate  to  ancient  manu- 
scripts. The  collection  of  portraits,  many  of 
which  are  of  great  rarity  (though  their  value  is 
impaired  by  the  fact  that  all  are  shorn  of  their 
margins),  include  the  Kings  and  Queens  of  Eng- 
land, from  William  I  to  Anne,  and  a  large  number 
of  celebrities  of  the  day,  male  and  female.  The 
maps  and  panoramas  of  London,  both  before  and 
after  the  Fire,  form  another  very  valuable  series, 
in  which  the  transformation  of  the  city  can  be 
seen  at  different  stages. 

But,  after  all,  the  most  interesting  and  the  most 


I 


V 


268 


i 


Samuel  Pepys 


valuable  book  in  the  library  is  not  any  of  these 
— ^it  is  the  manuscript  of  the  Diary.  When 
Pepys  left  it  off  in  1669,  the  six  volumes,  duly 
bound,  numbered,  and  adorned  with  their  book- 
plates, were  allotted  their  place  in  Ms  shelves, 
and,  for  all  the  evidence  there  is  to  the  contrary, 
were  never  thought  of  again.  There  are  no 
allusions  to  them  in  his  correspondence  ;  he  appar- 
ently left  his  heir  no  directions  with  regard  to 
them.  It  is  hardly  conceivable  that  he  can  have 
looked  forward  with  equanimity  to  their  publica- 
tion; yet  he  cannot  have  imagined  either  that 
his  shorthand  protected  them  from  all  chance  of 
being  read,  or  that,  supposing  the  key  to  be  dis- 
covered, the  volumes  would  have  no  interest  for 
the  world  at  large.  Any  one  who  happened  to 
be  acquainted  with  the  system  of  shorthand  which 
he  had  used  would  have  it  in  his  power  to  lay 
certain  years  in  the  life  of  a  high  public  official 
absolutely  bare  before  the  inquisitive  gaze  of  his 
countrymen.  Enough  of  the  myriad  indiscre- 
tions of  the  record  must  surely  have  lingered  in 


Samuel  PePys 


269 


Pepys'  mind  to  make  this  an  uncomfortable 
reflection.  He  might  have  destroyed  his  Diary 
altogether,  he  might  have  kept  merely  a  cautious 
selection  from  it,  he  might  have  taken  elaborate 
precautions  against  its  seeing  the  light ;  the  one 
impossible  course  was  to  do  nothing  in  the  matter 
at  all.  If  we  suppose  him  to  have  been  so  much 
pleased  with  the  notion  of  posthumous  fame  as 
to  have  entirely  forgotten  his  usual  circumspection, 
why  did  he  not  take  steps  to  preclude  the  possible 
chance  that  his  manuscript  might 'escape  attention 
altogether  ?  As  it  turned  out,  the  fruition  of 
his  fame  was,  as  we  know,  delayed  for  over  a 
century.  In  his  minute  care  for  the  future  of 
his  books  it  is  impossible  to  imagine  that  the 
question  of  the  Diary  was  not  fully  considered 
in  all  its  bearings.  Perhaps  it  was  natural  that 
he  should  go  on  considering  it,  and  finally  die 
before  he  had  decided  on  the  answer. 

Pepys'  younger  nephew,  John  Jackson,  though 
not  definitely  adopted  as  his  heir  until  1703,  was 
for  years  a  constant  companion  and  assistant  to 


r 


If  1 

i 


270 


Samuel  Pepys 


his  uncle  in  retirement.  We  hear  nothing  of 
Paulina  Jackson's  eldest  son,  Samuel,  who  was 
eventually  passed  over  as  Pepys'  heir  in  view  of 
his  having  married  against  his  uncle's  pleasure. 
John  was  more  submissive,  and  Pepys  treated 
him  very  handsomely.  He  sent  him  to  Magdalene, 
and  afterwards  helped  him  to  an  extended  tour 
abroad,  in  Italy  and  Spain.  Pepys,  who  felt 
that  his  own  travelling  days  were  over,  took  a 
great  interest  in  the  young  man's  itinerary,  and 
gave  him  a  free  hand  in  purchasing  books  and  prints 
for  his  collection.  At  Rdme,  among  various  other 
commissions,  Jackson  was  particularly  directed 
to  verify  in  the  Vatican  Library  Pepys'  copy  of 
Henry  VHI's  letters.  He  was  to  visit  various 
personages  to  whom  his  uncle  obtained  introduc- 
tions for  him,  and  generally  to  acquire  a  stock 
of  experience  and  culture  which  should  be  a  life- 
long advantage  for  himself,  and  a  reflected  pleasure 
for  his  benefactor.  When  he  arrived  home  again, 
bringing  his  spoils  with  him,  it  can  be  imagined 
with  what  delight  Pepys  set  to  work  on  the 


Samuel  Pepys 


271 


arrangement  and  classification    of  his    "  Roman 
marketings."     The  library  was  now  approaching 
its  final  form,  and  Jackson  was  employed  in  helping 
to  compile  and  copy  fair  the  elaborate  catalogue, 
with   its   complicated   systems   of   subject-index 
and  cross-reference.     The  services  of  Paul  Lor- 
rain,    the    translator,    who   had   placed   himself 
under  Pepys'  patronage,  were  also  engaged   for 
like  secretarial  work.     In  the  original  catalogue, 
which  is  preserved  at  Magdalene  with  the  rest 
of  the  books,  are  inserted  two  charming  views 
of  the  room  in  which  Pepys  stored  his  collection. 
They  show   a   high  wainscoted  apartment  with 
two  windows  at  one  end;    the  famous  presses 
are  ranged  round  the  walls,  with  a  line  of  por- 
traits above  them.     The  room  has  the  clear  and 
unencumbered    distinction    of  its    period,    and 
must  have  formed  a  most  attractive  setting  for 
the  Saturday  evening  receptions,  of  which  it  was, 
no  doubt,  the  scene. 

We  can  form  a  very  good  idea  of  Pepys'  per- 
sonal  appearance   in   his   later   years   from   the 


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I A 


i 


i 


272 


Samuel  Pepys 


excellent  portrait  of  him,  dated  1687,  which  now 
hangs  in  the  official  residence  of  the  First  Lord 
of  the  Admiralty.     This  portrait— it  is  not  known 
who  painted  it — shows  a  plump  fresh  countenance, 
with  full  lips  and  a  twinkle  of  inquisitive  humour 
in  the  wide-set  eyes,   a   most  comfortable  and 
engaging  expression.     Pepys  had  evidently  the 
kind  of  face  which  improves  with  age.     The  por- 
trait painted  by  John  Hales  in  1666  (now  in  the 
National  Portrait  Gallery)  of  which  we  heard  in 
the  Diary,  is  equally  expressive,  but  far  less  genial ; 
and  the  same  may  be  said  of  that  by  Lely  (now 
hanging  in  the  Hall  at  Magdalene),  which  must 
have  been  painted  soon  after  the  Diary  was  brought 
to  a  close.     There  also  exist  several  portraits  of. 
him  by  Kneller  ;  one  of  these,  a  rather  grim  like- 
ness, is  in  the  Pepysian  Library ;    one  is  in  the 
possession  of  the  Royal  Society ;  another  is  in 
private  hands.     The  portrait  mentioned  in  the 
Diary  as  having  been  painted  by  Savill  in  January, 
1662,  is  probably  the  one,  formerly  attributed 
to  Kneller,  belonging  to  Mrs.  Frederick  Pepys 


I. 


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Samuel  Pepys. 

2g|(  ■  From  the  painting  by  Sir  Peter  Lely  (Magdalene  Cllege.  Can.hridge) 


\     4 


Samuel  Pepys 


273 


Cockerell.  Verrio's  picture  at  Christ's  Hospital 
of  James  II  receiving  the  mathematical  scholars 
contains  a  figure  of  Pepys,  who  had  been  very 
useful  in  obtaining  for  the  School  the  patronage 
both  of  Charles  and  of  James.  An  ivory  carving 
of  Pepys'  profile,  dated  1683,  is  preserved  in  a 
collection  of  relics  belonging  to  one  of  his  col- 
lateral descendants. 

Pepys'  serene  and  busy  retirement  was  unhap- 
pily disturbed  in  1700  by  a  recrudescence  of  his 
old  malady,  the  stone,  for  which  he  had  under- 
gone an  operation  more  than  forty  years  before. 
He  was  now  bed-ridden  for  several  months,  and  a 
fresh  operation  was  necessary.  On  his  recovery  it 
was  judged  prudent  that  he  should  leave  London 
for  the  fresh  air  of  Clapham,  where  his  old  friend 
Hewer,  who  had  long  been  his  companion  at  York 
Buildings,  now  possessed  a  house.  Here  he  estab- 
lished himself  for  the  remainder  of  his  life.  His 
infirmities  gradually  increased,  but  he  kept  up 
to  the  end  his  correspondence  with  his  friends. 
In  1 701    he  commissioned   Kneller   to   paint    a 

18 


274 


Samuel  Pepys 


portrait  of  John  Wallis,  Savilian  Professor  of 
Geometry  at  Oxford,  to  be  presented  to  the 
University,  for  which  he  received  a  grandiloquent 
letter  of  thanks  in  Latin. 

The  end  came  on  May  26, 1703,  after  a  long  and 
painful  illness.    "  His  stamina  in  general,"  wrote 
Jackson  two  days  later  to  Evelyn,  "  were  marvel- 
lously strong,  and  not  only  supported  him,  under 
the  most  exquisite  pains,  weeks  beyond  all  expec- 
tations;    but  in  the  conclusion,  contended  for 
nearly  forty  hours  (unassisted  by  any  nourish- 
ment) with  the  very  agonies  of  death,  some  few 
minutes  excepted,  before  his  expiring,  which  were 
very  calm."    During  his  illness  Pepys  received 
the  ministrations  of  Dr.  George  Hickes,  the  non- 
juring  Dean  of  Worcester,  who  declared  that  he 
"  never  attended  any  sick  or  dying  person  that 
dyed  with  so  much  Christian  greatnesse  of  mind, 
or  a  more  lively  sense  of  immortality,  or  so  much 
fortitude  and  patience."     Dr.   Hickes  was  with 
him    at   the    last.     The    body  was  brought    to 
London,  and  was  buried  on  June  5  in  St.  Olave's 


Smmie/  Pepys 


^IS 


Church,  Hart  Street,  in  the  vault  where  Mrs. 
Pepys  had  been  laid  thirty-four  years  be- 
fore. 

Rings  and  mourning  were  presented  to  a  large 
number  of  relations  and  friends.  Evelyn  was 
invited  to  be  one  of  the  pall-bearers,  but  he  was 
prevented  by  illness  from  attending  the  funeral. 
His  entry  in  his  diary  on  the  day  of  his  friend's 
death  must  be  quoted  : — 

"  This  day  died  Mr.  Sam  Pepys,  a  very  worthy, 
industrious,  and  curious  person,  none  in  England 
exceeding  him  in  knowledge  of  the  navy,  in  which 
he  had  passed  thro'  all  the  most  considerable 
offices,  Clerk  of  the  Acts  and  Secretary  of   the 
Admiralty,  all  which  he  performed  with  great 
integrity.     When  K.  James  H  went  out  of  England 
he  laid  down  his  office,  and  would  serve  no  more, 
but  withdrawing  himselfe  from  all  public  aflfaires, 
he  liv'd  at  Clapham  with  his  partner  Mr.  Hewer, 
formerly  his  clerk,  in  a  very  noble  and  sweet e 
place,  where  he  enjoyed  the  fruits  of  his  labours 
in   greate   prosperity.     He   was   universally   be- 


"M 


276 


Samuel  Pepys 


lov'd,  hospitable,  generous,  learned  in  many 
things,  skill'd  in  music,  a  very  greate  cherisher 
of  learned  men  of  whom  he  had  the  conversa- 


tion. 


>j 


This  is  finely  and  justly  said,  though  the 
stately  compliments  take  no  account  of  the  insati- 
ably desirous  and  inquisitive  spirit,  vibrating  to 
all  the  appeals  of  life,  and  only  anxious  to  let 
no  moment  pass  without  its  separate  thrill — ^the 
spirit  which  for  us  is  Pepys.  We  are  left  to 
speculate,  in  the  phrase  used  by  Walter  Pater  of 
a  very  different  man,  how  he  "  looked  forward 
now  into  the  vague  land,  and  experienced  the 
last  curiosity." 

Pepys'  will  was  dated  August  2,  1701,  with 
two  codicils  dated  May  12  and  13,  1703.  In 
1 70 1  he  still  regarded  his  sister's  eldest  son, 
Samuel  Jackson,  as  his  heir,  and  the  bulk  of  his 
property,  including  his  house  and  grounds  at 
Brampton,  were  accordingly  in  the  original  will 
assigned  to  this  nephew.  But  in  the  first  codicil 
this  bequest  was  changed  for  an  annuity  of  ^^40 


Samuel  Pepys 


277 


only,  in  view  of  the  fact  that  Samuel  Jackson 
"  has  thought  fit  to  dispose  of  himselfe  in  mar- 
riage against  my  positive  advice  and  Injunctions 
and  to  his  own  irreparable  prejudice  and  dis- 
honour." We  do  not  know  the  details  of  this 
unfortunate  occurrence,  the  result  of  which 
was  to  instal  the  younger  brother  John  as  chief 
heir  in  his  place.  To  Hewer,  who  was  made  sole 
executor,  was  left  a  sum  of  ;^S00,  "  as  a  very 
small  instance  of  my  respect  and  most  sensible 
esteem  of  his  more  than  filial  affection  and  tender- 
ness expressed  towards  me  through  all  the  occur- 
rences of  my  life  for  forty  years  past  unto  this 
day."  Small  bequests  were  also  made  to  various 
servants.  But  in  spite  of  his  life-long  prudence, 
Pepys  had  not  very  much  money  to  dispose  of, 
for  a  sum  of  no  less  than  ^^28,007  is,  iji,,  was 
owing  to  him  from  the  Crown,  which  after  the 
Revolution  there  was  small  chance  of  his  ever 
receiving.  This  sum  probably  represented  not 
only  arrears  of  salary,  but  large  amounts  advanced 
to  Charles  II  and  James  II,  which  their  successors 


1 1 


I 


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%.. 


m 


278 


Samuel  Pepys 


did  not  feel  called  upon  to  pay.  Pepys  made 
bequests  to  several  friends  contingent  on  this 
debt  being  paid,  but  though  vouchers  for  the 
full  amount  were  in  his  possession  they  were 
never  redeemed. 

Pepys  also  left  careful  directions  in  writing  with 
regard  to  the  disposal  ol  his  library.  Jackson  was  in 
the  first  place  to  review  the  whole  collection,  to 
see  that  nothing  was  missing,  and  to  complete  any 
series  that  might  be  still  in  course  of  publication. 
The  books  were  then  to  be  re-numbered  through- 
out, and  an  additional  press  provided  if  neces- 
sary. He  was  to  decide  where  he  would  finally 
leave  it  atter  his  death  by  the  help  of  the  process 
of  exclusion  already  described.  If  either  Trinity 
or  Magdalene  was  finally  selected,  Pepys  provided 
that  the  two  colleges  should  have  "  a  reciprocal 
check  upon  one  another,"  the  college  in  possession 
of  the  library  to  be  subject  to  an  annual  visita- 
tion from  the  other,  and  to  forfeit  the  whole 
collection  if  it  appeared  that  his  directions  for 
its  safe  keeping  were  being  disregarded. 


Samuel  Pepys 


279 


John  Jackson  afterwards  married  a  certain 
Anne  Edgeley,  and  from  their  eldest  daughter 
Frances,  who  married  John  Cockerell,  the  present 
family  of  Pepys  Cockerell  are  descended.  Jack- 
son himself  died  in  1724,  in  which  year  the 
Pepysian  Library  was  deposited  at  Magdalene. 
A  certain  number  of  Pepys'  papers  had  for  some 
reason  never  found  a  place  in  the  collection,  and 
were  consequently  dispersed.  Some  fifty  volumes 
of  them  form  part  of  the  Rawlinson  collection 
in  the  Bodleian  Library,  and  others  are  in  private 
hands. 

The  twelve  presses  were  duly  set  up  in  the  new 
building  at  Magdalene,  in  a  room  facing  the 
court.  No  doubt  it  was  from  the  first  appreci- 
ated as  a  valuable  ornament  to  the  college,  but 
Pepys  had  been  so  particular  that  no  books  should 
be  allowed  for  any  purpose  to  be  removed  from 
the  room  except  by  the  Master  (and  by  him  never 
more  than  ten  at  a  time)  that  it  could  be  put 
to  no  great  practical  use.  It  was  carefully 
looked  after,  however,  even  though  there  is  no 


■^h'kJII-..].     fcillll 


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280 


Samuel  Pepys 


record  to  show  that  Trinity  ever  paid  it  the 
directed  visits  of  inspection.  Magdalene  can 
thus  claim  that  Trinity  has  in  any  case  forfeited 
its  reversionary  rights,  though  it  is  to  be  hoped 
and  believed  that  no  opportunity  is  given  for 
questioning  the  vigilance  with  which  the  library 
is  protected.  In  1835  it  was  moved  from  its 
original  resting-place  to  a  ground-floor  room  in 
the  old  court,  which  had  till  then  formed  part 
of  the  Master's  Lodge.  The  present  Lodge,  a 
detached  building  at  a  little  distance  from  the 
college,  was  erected  in  that  year,  and  in  1847  the 
Pepysian  Library  was,  with  the  consent  of  Trinity, 
transferred  thither.  In  1853  it  was  restored  to 
the  building  in  which  it  had  first  been  housed, 
but  was  placed  in  a  room  at  the  back,  looking 
on  to  the  Fellows'  Garden,  where  it  has  since 
remained. 

But  meanwhile  a  very  different  interest  had 
been  given  to  the  collection  from  that  which  it 
had  possessed  in  the  eighteenth  century.  It 
had  then  been  merely  the  collection  of  a  distin- 


Samuel  PePys 


281 


guished  public  official,  remembered  for  his  valu- 
able services  to  tTie  navy  and  for  his  enlightened 
patronage  of  science  and  letters.  Curiously 
enough,  the  six  manuscript  volumes  which  were 
to  change  all  this  attracted,  as  early  as  1728, 
the  attention  of  a  visitor  who  might  have  been 
able,  if  he  had  had  time  and  opportunity,  to 
decipher  them.  This  was  a  certain  Peter  Leices- 
ter, who  in  examining  the  library  came  upon 
the  unread  Diary,  and  but  for  the  fear  of  being 
troublesome  to  the  librarian  would  have  set  to 
work  there  and  then  to  discover  the  key  to  the 
shorthand.  He  described  the  episode  in  a  letter 
to  John  Byrom,  the  poet,  who  was  an  expert  in 
stenography,  but  nothing  more  came  of  it  at  the 
time.  It  is  not  for  these  pages,  at  any  rate,  to 
suggest  that  the  librarian  was  to  blame,  but  the 
result  of  his  impatience  was  to  defer  for  nearly 
a  hundred  years  the  resuscitation  of  the  Diary. 
No  one,  apparently,  took  the  trouble  to  examine 
the  manuscript  any  further  until  1819.  Evelyn's 
Diary  had  then  just  been  published  for  the  first 


k 


282 


Samuel  Pepys 


time,  and  it  occurred  to  the  Master  of  Magdalene, 
the  Hon.  and  Rev.  George  Neville,  that  the 
volumes  lettered  "  Journal "  in  the  Pepysian 
Library  might  possibly  conceal  memoirs  of  no 
less  interest.  He  did  not  know  the  system  of 
shorthand  used  by  Pepys,  nor  did  he  know  that 
there  was  another  volume  in  the  library  which 
would  have  readily  given  the  key — Charles  H's 
account  of  his  famous  escape,  which  Pepys  had 
taken  down  in  shorthand  and  afterwards  copied 
out  in  full ;  but  he  showed  the  Diary  to  his  rela- 
tive Lord  Grenville,  who  deciphered  a  few  pages 
and  explained  the  method.  John  Smith,  an  un- 
dergraduate of  St.  John's,  was  entrusted  with 
the  extremely  laborious  task  of  transcribing  the 
whole  Diary.  He  accomplished  it  after  three 
years  of  incessant  work,  and  in  1825  a  selection 
(gradually  enlarged  in  later  editions)  was  pub- 
lished under  the  superintendence  of  the  third 
Lord   Braybrooke.^     At   once  the  distinguished 

^  A  fresh  transcription  was  made  by  the  Rev.  Mynors  Bright 
for  the  edition  published  by  him  in  1875-9. 


Sa7nuel  Pepys 


283 

public  official  sprang  into  a  new  fame,  and  from 
having  been  a  dignified  but  in  no  way  peculiarly 
interesting  personage,  rapidly  receding,  more- 
over, into  the  mists  of  time,  became,  of  all  the 
figures  of  the  past,  perhaps  the  most  clearly  to 
be  seen  and  intimately  to  be  known,  the  man 
who  has  most  fully  and  completely  shown  us  the 
extraordinary  jumble  of  desires  and  anxieties,  of 
impulses  mean  and  generous,  of  self-conflicting 
ambitions,  of  powers  so  unbounded  and  so  Hmited, 
the  sum  of  which  is  human  nature. 

Pepys'  fame  has  steadily  grown  since  then. 
To  close  this  story,  mention  should  be  made  of 
the  monument  which  after  long  years  was  erected 
to  him  in  the  church  where  he  was  buried.  It 
is  curious  that  nothing  was  done  at  the  time  of  his 
death  to  record  the  fact  that  Pepys,  as  well  as  his 
wife,  lay  in  St.  Olave's  Church,  beneath  the 
stones  of  the  chancel.  In  1883,  however,  a 
memorial  medallion,  designed  by  Sir  Arthur 
Blomfield  and  paid  for  by  a  public  subscription, 
was  fixed  in  the  south  aisle,  where  in  Pepys'  day 


\ 


) 


284 


Samuel  Pepys 


was  a  gallery  containing  the  official  pew  of  the 
Navy  Board.  His  wife's  bust  looks  across  from 
the  opposite  side  of  the  chancel,  where  he  him- 
self placed  it. 


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THE    END. 


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